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&JESK II. 



^ p 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



q 



30!) 



Dol. Assuredly, you know mc 

Cleo. No matter, sir, what I have heard, or known. 
You laugh, when boys, or women, tell their dreams ; 
Is'f not your trick ? 

Dol. I understand not, madam. 

Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony ; 
O, such another sleep, that I might see 
But such another man! 

Dol. If it might please you,— — 

Cleo. His face was as the heavens ; and therein 
stuck 
A sun, and moon ; which kept their course, and 

lighted 
The little O, the earth. 1 

Dol. Most sovereign creature, 

Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean : 2 his rear'd arm 
Crested the world: 3 his voice was propertied 
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends ; 
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, 
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
There was no winter in't ; an autumn 'twas, 
That grew the more by reaping : His delights 
Were dolphin-like : they show'd his back above 
The element they liv'd in : In his livery 
Walk'd crowns, and crownels ; realms and islands 

were 
As plates 4 dropp'd from his pocket. 

DoL Cleopatra, 

Cleo. Think you, there was, or might be, such a 
man 
As this I dream'd of? 

Dol. Gentle madam, no. 

Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. 
But, if there be, or ever were one such, 
It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff 
To vie 5 strange forms with fancy ; yet, to imagine 
An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, 
Condemning shadows quite. 

Dol. Hear me, good madam : 

Your loss is as yourself, great ; and you bear it 
As answering to the weight : 'Would, I might never 
O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel, 
By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots 
My very heart at root. 

Cleo. I thank you, sir. 

Know you, what Caesar means to do with me ? 

Dol. I am loath to tell you what I would you 
knew. 

Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir, 

Dol. Though he be honourable, 

Cleo. He'll lead me then in triumph ? 

Dol. Madam, he will ; 

I know it. 

JVithin. Make way there ! — Caesar ! 

Enter C.ESAR, GaLLUS, PROCtXLEIUS, Mecjenas, 

Seleucus, and Attendants. 
Cces. Which is the queen 

Of Egypt? 

Dol. 'Tis the emperor, madam. 

[Cleopatra kneels. 
Cms. Arise, 

You shall not kneel : 

I pray you, rise ; rise, Egypt. 



1 Shakspeare uses O for an orb or circle. Thus in 
King Henry V. : — 

' can we cram 

Within this wooden O the very casques.' 

2 So in Julius Caesar : — 

' Why, man, he doth bestride the world 
Like a Colossus.' 

3 Dr. Percy thinks that ' this is an allusion to some 
of the old crests in heraldry, where a raised arm on"a 
wreath was mounted on the helmet.' To crest is to 
surmount. 

4 Plates means silver money: — 

' What's the price of this slave, 200 crowns ? 

Belike he has some new trick for a purse, 
-And if he has, he's worth 300 plates.' 
In neraldry, the roundlets in an escutcheon, if or, or 
yellow, are called besants ; if argent, or while, plates, 
which are round flat pieces of silver money, perhaps 
without any stamp or impress. It is remarkable after 
all that the commentators have said against Ben Jorison, 

53 



Cleo. Sir-, the gods 
Will have it thus ; my master and my lord 
I must obey. 

Cos. Take to you no hard thoughts : 

The record of what injuries you did us, 
Though written in our flesh, we shall remember 
As things but done by chance. 

Cleo. Sole sir o' the world 

I cannot project 6 mine own cause so well 
To make it clear ; but do confess, I have 
Been laden with like frailties, which before 
Have often sham'd our sex. 

Cces. Cleopatra, know, 

We will extenuate rather than enforce : 
If you apply yourself to our intents, 
(Which towards you are most gentle,) you shall 

find 
A benefit in this change ; but if you seek 
To lay on me a cruelty, by taking 
Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself 
Of my good purposes, and put your children 
To that destruction which I'll guard them from, 
If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. 

Cleo. And may, through all the world : 'tis 
yours : and we 
Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall 
Hang in what place you please. Here, my good 
lord. 

Cms. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.'' 

Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and. 
jewels, 
I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued ; 
Not petty things admitted. — Where's SeleucKS? 

Sel. Here, madam. 

Cleo. This is my treasurer ; let him speak, my 
lord, 
Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd 
To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. 

Sel. Madam, 
I had rather seel 8 my lips, than, to my peril, 
Speak that which is not. 

Cleo. What have I kept back ? 

Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made 
known. 

Cces. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra! I approve 
Your wisdom in the deed. 

Cleo. See, Caesar ! O, behold 

How pomp is foHow'd ! mine will now be yours ; 
And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. 
The ingratitude of this Seleucus does 
Even make me wild : — O, slave, of no more trust 
Than love that's hir'd !-- -What, goest thou back ; 

thou shalt 
Go back, I warrant thee ; but I'll catch thine eyes, 
Though they had wings : Slave, soulless villain, dog ! 
O, rarely base ! 9 

Cms. Good queen, let us entreat you. 

Cleo. O, Caesar, what a wounding shame is this : 
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me, 
Doing the honour of thy lordliness 
To one so meek, that mine own servant should 
Parcel the sum of my disgraces by 



Steevens should have expunged a note that appeared in 
his edition of 1778, in which he cites the following 
beautiful passage from Ben Jonson's New Inn, on the 
subject of liberality : — 

' He gave me first my breeding, I acknowledge : 

Then shower'd his bounties on me, like the hours 

That open-handed sit upon the clouds, 

And press the liberality of heaven 

Down to the laps of thankful men.' 

5 To vie here has its metaphorical sense of to contend 
in rivalry. 

6 To project is to delineate, to shape, to form. So in 
Look About You, a Comedy, 1600:— 

' But quite dislike the project of your sute.' 

7 Caesar afterwards says : — 

' For we intend so to dispose you, as 
Yourself shall give us counsel.' 

8 Close up my lips as effectually as the eyes of a hawk, 
are closed. To seel hawks was the technical term for 
sewing up their eyes. 

9 i. e. base in an uncommon degree. 



S06 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



Act T. 



Addition of his envy !'• Say, good Caesar, 

That I some lady trifles have reserv d, 

Immomcnt toys, things of such d'gnity 

As we areet modern 2 friends withal : and say, 

Some Nobler token I have kept apart 

For Livia, and Oetavia, to induce 

Their mediation ; must I be unfolded 

With 3 one that I have bred ? The gods ! It smites me 

Beneath the fall I have. Pr'ythee^hence^ ^ 

Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits 
Through the ashes of my chance.*— Wert thou a 

man, 
Thou would'st have mercy on me. 

^ Forbear, Seleucus. 

ca ^' [Exit Seledcus. 

Cleo. Be it known that we, the greatest, are 
misthought 
For things that others do ; and, when we tall, 
We answer others' merits' in our name. 
Are therefore to be pitied. 

Cass Cleopatra, 

Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknow- 
ledge, .„,_ . 
Put we i' the roll of conquest : still be it yours, 
Bestow it at vour pleasure ; and believe, 
< , r ' s do merchant, to make prize with you 
Ofthines that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer d ; 
Make "not your thoughts your prisons: 1 : no, dear 

queen, 
For wc intend so to dispose you, as 
Yourself shall give us counsel, r Md, and sleep . 
Our care and pity is so moch upon you. 
That we remain vour friend ; And so adieu. 
Cleo. My master, and my lord . 
~ s ' Not so : Adieu. 

[Exeunt Cjesar, and his Train. 
Cleo. Be words nic, girls, he words me, that I 
should not 
Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charmian. 
** * ' [JVhispers Chabmt j». 

tra». Finish, good lady ; the bright day is done, 
And we are for the dark. 

Cleo. "" thee again: 

I have spoke already, and it is provided ; 
Go, put it to the haste. 

Char. Madam, I will. 

Re-enter Dolabella. 

Dol. Where is the queen ? 

Char. Behold, sir. [Ex.* Charmian 

Clen Dolabella? 

Dol. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, 
Which my love makes religion to obey, 
i tell you this : Cmsar through Syria 
Intends his journey j and, within three days, 
You with your children will he send belore : 
Make your best use of this : I have perform d 
Your pleasure, and mv promise 



Cleo. Dolabella, 
I shall remain your debtor. 

Poi. I your servant. 

Adieu, good queen ; I must attend on Cassar. 
Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit Dol.] Now 
Iras, what think'st thou ? 
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown 
In Rome, as well as I : mechanic slaves, 
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall 
Uplift us to the view ; in their thick breaths, 
Rank of gross diet, shall we be unclouded, 
And fore'd to drink their vapour. 

Iras. The gods forbid • 

Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras : Saucy lictora 
Will catch at us, like strumpets ; and scald rhymers 
Ballad us out o' tunc : the quick' comedians 
Bxtemporally will stage us, and present 
Our Alexandrian revels ; Antony 
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see 
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy' my greatness 
V the posture of a whore. 

Iras. O, the good gods ! 

Cleo. Nay, that is certain. 
Iras. I'll never see it ; for, I am sure, my nails 
\r. stronger than mine eyes. 

( v, „. e Why, that's the way 

To fool their preparation, and to conquer 
Their most absurd 9 intents.— Now, Charmian I— 

Enter Charmian. 
Show me, my women, like a queen ;— Go fetch 
My best attires:— J am ag&™ f " r Cydnus, 
To meel Mark Antony :— Sirrah, 1 " Iras, go.— 
Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch, indeed: 
And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee 

leave ,. 

To play till doomsday.— Bring our crown and all : 
Wherefore's this noise 7 

[Exit Iras. A Noise within. 

Enter one of the Guard. 
Guard. H we ls a nlral f, ' llow > 

That will not be denied your highness' presence ; 
Hi' lirin«_'s VOU figs. 

Cleo. Let him come in. How" poor an instrument 
r i " . ,t i i n't i-.i . 



[Exit Guard, 
libe 



1 < That this fellow should add one more parcel or 

, ihe sum of my disgraces, namely, his own 
fnatioeS 

2 i. e. common, ordinary. 

8 WWi is here used with the po^ er , of b V; t>1 a , rttn , 

4 i. e. fortune. ' Begone, or* shall exert thatrojal 
spirit which I had in my prosperity. In spte iof the im- 
becility of my present weak condiuon.' Chaucer has a 
similar image in his Canterbury Tales, T. 31S0:— 

' Yet in our ashen cold is tire yreken.' 

5 i. e. we answer for that which others have merited 
bv their transgressions. . .. 

6 ' He not a prisoner in imagination, when in reality 

yon are free. 5 ... !•__. 

Tie [|,e7/W« or 7u/e*-witted comedians. 

<» It has been alrea.lv observed that the parts of females 
b , boyrson our ancient staee. Nash.m'us 
Pierce Pennih exultation ha 

'our players are.not as the players beyond sea that 
,,,.,..,. ommon courtesans to play < 

Darls ■ „• impropriety r>l men representing 

,, r . ;„ Ms Tragedy of the Raging Turlr, 
1631, has . ■• remale character. 

9 [absurd here means unmeet, uiifittmg, unreason- 

°ltsirra!i was not anciently an appellation either 



May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing 
Of woman in me : Now from head to foot 
I am marble-constant: now the fleeting 11 moon 
No planet is of mine. 
Re-enter Guard, with a Clown, hinging a Basket. 

Guard. This is the man. 

Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. [Exit Guard. 

Hast thou the pretty worm 1 ' of Nilus there, 
That kills and pains not? 

Clown. Truly I have him; but I would not be 
the party that should desire you to touch him, tor 
his biting is immortal ; those, that do die of it, do 
seldom or never recover. 



reoroachful or injurious; being applied with £. sort of 
nlaTful kindness, to children, frtenas, and servants, and 
what may seem more extraordinary, as in the present 
c^e women. It is nothing more than the exclama- 
ron/Strha: and we sometimes find it w *Pg™;» 
form 'Jlsyr a, there said you wel.'— Confutation o. 
Vidolas daxton, 1546. The Hetfl. tu of Plautus is 
rlndered by an old translator, Ha Sirra. In Beaumont 
and Fletcher's Knieht of Malta, one gentlewoman says 
to another, ' Sirrah, why dost thou not marry .' 

11 The first folio has ' What poor an instrument.' 

12 Fleeting, or Mittinsr, is changeable, inconstant:— 

' More variant than is ihtJUttmg luneS 

Walter's Guistard and StsmoiiO, loW7. 
I am now (says Cleopatra) ' whole as the marble, 
founded as the rock,' and no longer inconstant ano 
changeable, as woman often is. 

' W,nn is used bv our old writers to signify a serpent 
The word is pure Saxon, and is still used in the north 
in he same sense. We have it still in the bhndworm 
and sloTiro™ Shakspeare uses it several flir.es.- 
Th. notion of a serpent that caused death without pa.n 
I fable, and is here adopted with propriety 

The worm of N^ was the asp of the ancients, WtJlcl 
Dr. Shaw says is wholly unknown to ua. 



Scene II 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



307 



Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't ? 

Clown. Very many, men and women loo. I 
heard of one of them no longer than yesterdav : a 
very honest woman, but something given to lie ; as 
a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty : 
how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt. 
—Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm: 
But he that will believe all that they say, shall never 
be saved by half that they do. 1 But this is most 
fallible, the worm's an odd worm. 

Cleo. Get thee hence ; farewell. 

Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. 

Cleo, Farewell. [Clown sets down the Basket. 

Clown. Ycu must think this, look you, that the 
worm will do hie kind. 2 

Cleo. Ay, ay ; farewell. 

Clovm. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, 
but in the keeping of wise people ; for, indeed, 
there is no goodness in the worm. 

Cleo. Take thou no care ; it shall be heeded. 

Clown. Very good : give it nothing, I pray you, 
for it is not worth the feeding. 

Cleo. Will it eat me ? 

Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I 
know the devil himself will not eat a woman : I 
know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil 
dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson 
devils do the gods great harm in their women ; for 
in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. 

Cleo. Well, get thee gone ; farewell. 

Clown. Yes, forsooth j I wish you joy of the 
worm. [Exit. 

Re-enter Iras, with a Robe, Crown, $-c. 

Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
Immortal longings in me : 3 Now no more 
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: — 
Yare, yare, 4 good Iras ; quick. — Methinks, I hear 
Antony call ; I see him rouse himself 
To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock 
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men 
To excuse their after wrath : Husband, I come : 
Now to that name my courage prove my title ! 
I am fire, and air ; my other elements 
I give to baser life. 5 — So, — have you done ? 
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
Farewell, kind Charmian ; — Iras, long farewell. 

[Kisses them. Iras falls and dies. 
Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost fall l e 
If thou and nature can so gently part, 
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, 
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? 
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
It is not worth leave-taking. 

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain ; that I may 
say, 
The gods themselves do weep ! 

Cleo. This proves me base : 

If she first meet the curled Antony, 
He'll make demand of her ; and spend that kiss, 
Which is »iy heaven to have. Come, thou mortal 
wretch, 
[To the Asp, which she applies to her Breast. 
Wilh thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
Of life at once untie ; poor venomous fool, 
Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak ! 
That I might hear thee call great Caesar, ass 
Unpolicied !' 

Char. O, eastern star ! 

Cleo. Peace, peace ! 



1 Warburton observes that ' Shakspeare'a clowns are 
always jokers, and deal in sly satire :' but he would 
have all and half change places. I think with Steevens 
that the confusion was designed to heighten the humour 
of the clown's speech. 

'2 i. e. act according to his nature. 

3 From hence probably Addison in Cato : — 

' This longing after immortality.' 

4 i. e. be nimble, be ready. See Act iii. Sc. 5. 

5 Thus in King Henry V. : — ' He is pure air smijire ; 
and the dull elements of earth and water never appear 
in him ' 

6 Ira" muFt he anppnoeH to bnve applied an asp to hpr 



Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
That sucks the nurse asleep ? 

Char. O, break ! O, break ! 

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — 
O, Antony ! — Nay, I will take thee too ; — 

[Applying another Asp to her Arm. 
What should I stay — [Falls on a bed, and dies. 

Char. In this wild world ? — So, fare thee well, — 
Now boast thee, death ! in thy possession lies 
A lass unparallel'd. — Downy windows, close ; a 
And golden Phoebus never be beheld 
Of eyes again so royal 1 Your crown's awry ; 
I'll mend it, and then play. 9 

Enter the Guard, rushing in. 

1 Guard. Where is the queen ? 

Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 

1 Guard. Caesar hath sent 

Char. Too slow a messenger. 

[Applies the Asp. 
O, come ; apace, despatch ; I partly feel thee. 

1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well : Caesar's 

beeuil'd. 

2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Caesar : — 

call him. 

1 Guard. What work is here? — Charmian, is this 

well done ? 
Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess 
Descended of so many royal kings. 
Ah, soldier ! [Dieu. 

Enter Dolabella. 
Dol. How goes it here ? 

2 Guard. All dead. 

Dol. Caesar, thy thoughii 

Touch their effects in this : Thyself art coming 
To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou 
So sought'st to hinder. 

Within. A way there ! a way for Caesar 

Enter Cesar, and Attendants. 

Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer ; 
That you did fear, is done. 

Cces. Bravest at the last • 

She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, 
Took her own way. — The manner of their deaths ? 
I do not see them bleed. 

Dol. Who was last with them ? 

1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her 
figs ; 
This was his basket. 

Cass. Poison'd, then. 

I Guard. O, Caesar, 

This Charmian lived but now ; she stood, and 

spake : 
I found her trimming up the diadem 
On her dead mistress ; tremblingly she stood, 
And on the sudden dropp'd. 

Ca:s. O, noble weakness ! 

If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear 
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep, 
As she would catch another Antony 
In her strong toil of grace. 

DoL Here, on her breast, 

There is a vent of blood, and something blown: 10 
The like is on her arm. 

1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail : and these fig- 
leaves 
Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves 
Upon the caves of Nile. 

Cces. Most probable, 

That so she died ; for her physician tells me, 



arm while her mistress was settling her dress, to account 
for her falling so soon. 

7 i. e. an ass without more wit or polio/ than to leave 
the means of death within my reach, and thereby defeat 
his own purpose. 

8 Charmian may be supposed to close Cleopatra's 
eyes, the first melancholy office performed after death. 

9 Charmian remembers the words uttered to her by 
her beloved mistress iust before : — 

' when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thea 

leave 
To play till doomsday.' 
10 i. e. swelled, puffed. 



SOS 



CYMBELINE. 



She hath pursu'd conclusions' infinite 
Of easy ways to die. — Take up her bed ; 
And bear her women from the monuments- 
She shall be buried by her Antony : 
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it 
A pair so famous. High events as these 
Strike those that make them ; and their story ia 
No less in pity, than his glory, which 
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall, 
In solemn show, attend this funeral ; 
And then to Rome. — Come, Dolabella, see 
Hifh order in this great solemnity. [Exeunt. 



1 To pursue conclusions is to try experiments. So 
in Hamlet :— 

' like the famous ape 

To try conclusions ' 



THIS play keeps curiosity always busy, and the ps» 
sions always interested. The continual hurry of the 
action, the variety of incidents, and the quick succession 
of one personage to another, call the mind forward with- 
out intermission from the first act to the last. But the 
power of delighting is derived principally from the fre- 
quent changes of "the scene; for, except the feminine 
arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleo- 
patra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Up 
ton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, h-aa 
discovered that the language of Antony is, with great 
skill and learning, made pompous and superb, accord- 
ing to his real practice. But I think his diction not dia 
tinguishable from that of others : The most tumid speech 
in the play is that which Cssar makes to Octavia. 

The events, of which the principal are described ac 
cording to history, are produced without any art of coo 
nection or care o'f disposition. JOHNSON. 



CYMBELINE. 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 



THE general scheme of the plot of Cymheline is 
formed on the ninth novel of the second day in the 
Decamerone of Boccaccio. It appears Iroia the pre- 
face of tlic Old translation of the Decamerone, printed 
in folio in 1620, that many of the novels had before re- 
ceived an English dress, and had been printed sepa- 
rately. A deformed and interpolated imitation of the 
novel in question was printed at Antwerp, by John 
Dusborowghe, as early as 1518, under the following 
title : ' This matter treateth of a merchaumes wife that 
afterwards wente lyke a man and becam a greate lord, 
and was called Frederyke of Jennen afterwarde.' It 
exhibits the material features of its original, though 
the names of the characters are changed, their senti- 
ments debased, and their conduct rendered still more 
improbable than in the scenes of Cymbeline. A book 
was published in London in 1603, called 'Westward 
for Smelts, or the Waterman's Fare of mad merry 
western Wenches, whose Tongues albeit like Bcll- 

rs they never leave ringing, yet their T i 
sweet, and will much content you : Written by Kitl ot 
Kings tone.' It was aeain printed in 16-20. To the 
second tale in this work Shakspeare seems to have 
been indebted for the circumstances m his plot ol Imo- 
gen's wandering about after Fisanio has left her in the 
forest ; her being almost famished ; and being taken 
at a subsequent period into the service of the Roman 
general as a page. But time may yet I >rin 
other modification of the story, which will prove more 
exactly conformable to the plot of the play. 

Malone supposes Cymbeline to have been written in 
the vear 1609. The king, from whom the play takes 
its title, began his reign, according to Holinshed, in 
the nineteenth vear of the reign of Augustus Ca 381 : 
and the play commences in or about the twenty-fourth 
year of Cymbeline's reign, which was the forty-second 
year of the reign of Augustus; and the sixteenth of the 
Christian era : notwithstanding which. Shakspeare has 
peopled Rome with modem Italians; rhilario,Iachimo, 
&c. Cvmbeline is said to have reigned thirty -five 
years, leaving at his death two sons, Guiderius and 
Arviragus. Tcnantius (who is mentioned in the first 
seene) was the father of Cymheline, and nephew of 
Cassibelso, being the younger son of his elder brother 
Lud, king of the southern part of Britain, he agreed to 
pay an annual tribute to Rome. After his death, Te- 
hantius, Lud's younger son, was established on the 
throne, of which he and his elder brother Androgeus, 
who fled to Rome, had been unjustly deprived by 
their uncle. According to some authorities, Tenantius 
quietlv paid the tribute stipulated by Cassibelan ; ac- 
cording to others, he refused to pay it, and warred with 
the Romans. Shakspeare supposes the latter to be the 
truth. Holinshed, who furnished our poet with these 
facts, furnished him also with the name of Sicilius, 
who was admitted king of Britain, A. M. 3650. 

Schlegel pronounces Cymbeline to be ' one of Shak- 
epea.-e's most wonderful compositions,' in which the 
poet ' has contrived to blend together into one harmo- 
nious whole, the social manners of the latest times with 
heroic deeds, and even with appearances of the gods. 
In the character of Imogen not a feature of female ex- 
cellence is forgotten ; her chaste tenderness, her soft- 
ness, and her virgin pride, her boundless resignation, 
and her magnanimity towards her mistaken husband, 



by whom she is unjustly persecuted ; her adventures 
in disguise, her apparent death, and her recovery, 
form altogether a picture equally tender and afFectin;-. 

'Tin- two princes, Guiderius and Arviragus, both 
educated in the wilds, form a noble contrast to Miranda 
and Pcrdita. In these two young men, to whom the 
chase has given vigour and hardihood, but who are un 
acquainted wit It their high destination, and have always 

in ted by 
heroism which leads them to anticipate and to 
dream of deeds of valour, till an occasion is offered 
which they are irresistibly impelled to embrace. When 
Imogen comes in disguise to their rave ; when Gui- 
derius and Arviragus form an impassioned friendship, 
with all the innoeence of childhood, for the tender boy, 
(in whom they neither suspect a female nor their own 
Sister when on returning from the chase they find her 
dead, sing her to the ground, and cover the grave with 
:— these scei. a W W life for poetry 

I imagination.' 
' The wise and virtuous Belartus, who after living 
long aa a hermit, again becomes a help, is a venerable 
the dexterous dissimulation and quick presence 
of mind of the Italian Iachimo is quite suitable to the 
bold treachery he plays; Cymbeline, the father of 
Imogen, and even her husband Posthumus, during 
the fust half of the piece, are somewhat sacrificed, but 
this cot hi not be otherwise ; the false and wicked 
: merely an instrument of the plot ; she and her 
stupid son Cloten, whose rude arrogance is portrayed 
with much humour, are got rid of by merited punish- 
ment before the conclusion.' 

Steevene objects to the character of Cloten in a note 
on the fourth act of the play, observing that ' he is re 
presented at once as brave and dastardly, civil and 
brutish, sagacious and foolish, without that subtilty of 
distinction, and those shades of gradation between sense 
and folly, virtue and vice, which constitute the excel- 
lence of such mixed characters as Polonius in Hamlet, 
and the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet.' It should, how- 
ever, be observed, that Imogen has justly defined him 
' (haXmegulous devil Cloten ;' and Miss Seward, in one 
of her Letters, assures us that singular as the character 
of Cloten may appear, it is the exact prototype of a being 
she once knew. ' The unmeaning frown of the coun- 
tenance ; the shuffling gait ; the burst of voice ; the bus- 
tling Insignificance; the fever and ague fits of valour; 
the troward tetehiness; the unprincipled malice; and 
what is most curious, those occasional gleams of good 
sense, amidst the floating clouds of folly which gene- 
rally darkened and confused tho man's brain; and 
which, in the character of Cloten, we are apt to impute 
to a violation of unity in character, but in the some 

time Captain C n I saw the portrait of Cloten was 

not out of nature.' 

In the development of the plot of this play the poet 
has displayed such consummate skill, and such minute 
attention to the satisfaction of the most anxious and 
scrupulous spectator, as to afford a complete refutation 
of Johnson's assertion, that Shakspeare usually hurries 
over the conclusion of his pieces. . 

There is little conclusive evidence to ascertain the 
date of the composition of this play ; but Malone places 
it in the year 1609. Dr. Drake, after Chalmers, has 
ascribed it to the year 1605. 



Scene I. 



GYMBELINE. 
PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



309 



CrMBEUBE, King of Britain. 

Cloten, Son to the Queen by a former Husband. 

Leonatus Posthumus, a Gentleman, Husband to 

Imogen. 
Belarius, a banisked Lord, disguised under the 

name of Morgan. 
Guiderius, (< So ™ t0 Cymbeline, disguised under 
Arviragus ) ^ names o/ Poly dore and Cad- 

' ( wsl, supposed Sons to Belanus. 
Philario, Friend to Posthumus, ) T . ,- 
Iachimo, Friend to Philario, ( kalians. 

A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario. 
Caius Lucius, Ge neral of the Roman Forces. 
A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. 



Pisanio, Servant to Posthumus. 
Cornelius, a Physician. 
Two Gentlemen. 
Two Gaolers. 

Queen, Wife to Cymbeline. 

Imogen, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen, 

Helen, Woman to Imogen. 

Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Appa- 
ritions, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a 
Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, 
Soldiers, Messengers, and oilier Attendants. 

SCENE, sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Italy. 



ACT L 

SCENE I. Britain. The Garden behind Cymbe 
line's Palace, Enter Two Gentlemen. 
1 Gentleman. 
You do not meet a man but frowns : our bloods 
No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers, 
Still seem, as does the king's.' 

2 Gent. But what's the matter ? 

1 Gent His daughter, and the heir of his king- 
dom, whom 
He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow 
That late he married,) hath referr'd herself 
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman : She's wedded ; 
Her husband banish'd ; she imprison'd : all 
Is outward sorrow ; though, I think, the king 
Be touch'd at very heart. 
•2 Gent None but the king? 

1 Gent. He that hath lost her, too: so is the 
queen, 
ihat most desir'd the match : But not a courtier, 
Although they wear their faces to the bent 
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not 
Glad at the thtRg they scowl at. 

f £ ea< - TI , , And why so ? 

1 GenL He that hath miss'd the princess, is a 

thing 
Too bad for bad report : and he that hath her, 
(1 mean, that married her,— -alack, good mani— 
/.nd therefore banish'd,) is a creature such 
As, to seek through the regions of the earth 
For one kis like, there would be something failing 
Jn him that should compare. I do not think, 
»o fair an outward, and such stuff within 
Endows a man but he. 

2 Gent. You speak him far.* 

1 Cent. I ao extend him, sir, within himself: 
Crush him together, rather than unfold 

His measure duly. 3 

2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? 
1 Cent I cannot delve him to the root: His 

father 
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour* 
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan • 
But had his titles by Tenantius, 6 whom 
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success: 
Sso gam d the sw-additiovi, Leonatus : 



1 Our bloods [i. e. our dispositions or temperaments] 
are not more regulated by the heavens, b v n-ery skuen 
influence, lha.n our courtiers are by the 'disposition of 
the king: : when he frowns, every man frowns.' Blood 
is used in old phraseology for disposition or tempera- 
msnt. So in King Lear:— * 

' Were it my fitnesG 

To let these hands obey my blood ' 

2 i.e. you praise him extensively. 

3 'My eulogium, however extended it may seem, is 
short ot his real excellence ; it is rather abbreviated than 
expanded.' Perhaps this passage will be best illustra- 
feu by the following lines in Troilus and Cressida, Act 

ill. OC 3 • - ' 

' no man is the lord of any thin", 

Till he communicate his pans to others • 
Nor doth he of himself know them fur alight, 
Till he behold them form'd in the applause 
Where they are extended.' .[i. e. displayed at length ] 



And had, besides this gentleman in question, 
Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time, 
Died with their swords in hand; for which their 

father, 
(Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrosv, 
That he quit being ; and his gentle lady, 
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd 
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe 
To his protection ; calls him Posthumus ; 
Breeds him, and makes him of his bedchamber: 
Puts him to all the learnings that his time 
Could make him the receiver of; which he took, 
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd ; and 
In his spring became a harvest : Liv'd in court 
(Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lov'd : 
A sample to the youngest ; to the more mature 
A glass that feated* them ; and to the graver, 
A child that guided dotards ; to his mistress, 8 
From whom he now is banish'd, — her own price 
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; 
By her election may -be truly read, 
What kind of man he is. 

2 Gent. f honour him 

Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, 
Is she sole child to the king ? 

1 Gent. His only child. 
He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing 
Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old' 

P the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery 
Were stolen : and to this hour, no guess in know 

ledge 
Which way they went. 

2 Gent. How long is this ago ? 

1 Gent. Some twenty years. 

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con- 

vey'd ! 
So slackly guarded ! And the search so slow, 
That could not trace them ! 

1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, 
Or that the negligence may well be iaudi'd at, 
Yet is it true, sir. 

2 Gent. I do well believe you. 

1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queem 
and princess. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IL The same. Enter the Queen, Pos- 
thumus, and Imogen. 
Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not had me, 
daughter, 
After the slander of most step-mothers, 



4 I do not (says Steevens) understand what can be 
meant by 'joining his honour against, &c. with, &c 
Perhaps Shakspeare wrote : — 

' did join his banner.'' 

In the last scene of the play Cymbeline proposes that 'a 
Roman and a British ensign should wave icether ' 

The father of Cymbeline. 

6 'This encomium (says Johnson) is highly artful 
To be at once in any great degree loved and praised is 
truly rare.' 

1 Feale is well-fashioned, proper, trim, handsome 
well compact. Concinnus. Thus in Horman's Vul»a- 
na, lol9 .— ' He would see himself in a glasse, that = ah 
thinge were feet.' Feature was also used for fashio?. 
or proportion. The verb to feat was probably formed 
by Shakspeare himself. 

3 ' To his mistress,' means as to his mistresu. 



310 



CYMBELLNE 



Act !• 



Evil-eyed unto you : you are my prisoner, but 
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys 
That loclf up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, 
So soon as I can win the offended king, 
I will be known your advocate : marry, yet 
The fire of rage is in him ; and 'twere good, 
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience 
Your wisdom may inform you. 

Post. Please your highness, 

I will from hence to-day. 

Queen. You know the peril : — 

I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying 
The pangs of barr'd affections : though the king 
Hath charg'd you should not speak together. 

[Exit Queen. 

Imo. • O, 

Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant 
Can tickle where she wounds! — My dearest hus- 
band, 
I something fear my father's wrath ; but nothing 
(Always reserv'd my holy duty,) 1 what 
His rage can do on me : You must be gone ; 
And I shall here abide the hourly shot 
Of angry eyes : not comforted to live, 
But that there is this jewel in the world, 
That I may see again. 

Post. My queen ! my mistress ! 

O, lady, weep no more ; lest I give cause 
To be suspected of more tenderness 
Than doth become a man ! I will remain 
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. 
My residence in Rome at one Philario's ; 
Who to my father was a friend, to me 
Known but by letter : thither write, my queen, 
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words ^rou send, 
Though ink be made of gall. 

Re-enter Queen. 

Queen. Be brief, I pray you : 

If the king come, I shall incur I know not 
How much of his displeasure : — Yet I'll move him 

[Aside. 
To walk this way : I never do him wrong, 
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends : 
Pays dear for my offences. 2 [Exit. 

Post. Should we he taking leave 

As long a term as yet we have to live, 
The loathness to depart would grow : Adieu! 

Imo. Nay, stay a little : 
Were you but riding forth to air yourself, 
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love ; 
This diamond was my mother's : take it, heart ; 
But keep it till you woo another wife, 
When Imogen is dead. 

Post. How ! how ! another ? 

You gentle gods, give me but this I have, 
And sear up 3 my embraccments from a next 
With bonds of death! — Remain, remain thou here 

[Putting on the Ring. 
While sense* can keep it on ! And sweetest, fairest, 
As I my poor self did exchange for you, 



To your so infinite loss ; so, in our trifles 
I still win of you : For my sake, wear this ; 
It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it 
Upon this fairest prisoner. 

[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. 
Imo. O, the gods ! 

When shall we see again ? 

Enter Cymbeljne and Lords. 

Post. Alack, the king! 

Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid I hence, from my 
sight! 
If, after this command, thou fraught the court 
With thy unworthiness, thou diest : Away ! 
Thou art poison to my blood. 

Post. The gods protect you ! 

And bless the good remainders of the court ! 
I am gone. [Exit 

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death 

More sharp than this is. 

Cym. O, disloyal thing, 

That should'st repair 5 my youth ; thou heapest 
A year's age on me ! 6 

Imo. I beseech you, sir, 

Harm not yourself with your vexation : I 
Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare 
Subdues all pangs, all fears. 

Cym. Past grace ? obedience ? 

Imo. Past hope, and in despair ; that way, past 

grace. 
Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my 

queen ! 
Imo. O, bless'd, that I might not ! I chose an 
eagle, 
And did avoid a puttock. 8 

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have 
made my throne 
A seat for baseness. 

Imo. No ; I rather added 

A lustre to it. 

Cym. O, thou vile one ! 

Imo. Sir, 

It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus : 
You bred him as my playfellow ; and he is 
A man, worth anv woman : overbuys me 
Almost the sum he pays. 9 

Cym. What ! — art thou mad ? 

Imo. Almost, sir : Heaven restore me ! — 'Would 
I were 
A neat-herd's daughter ! and my Leonatus 
Our neighbour shepherd's son ! 

Re-enter Queen. 

Cym. Thou foolish thing !— • 

They were again together : you have done 

[To the Queen 
Not after our command. Away with her, 
And pen her up. 

Queen. 'Beseech your patience : — Peace. 

Dear lady daughter, peace ; Sweet sovereign, 



1 ' I say I do not fear my father, so far as I may say 
it without breach of duty.' 

2 ' He gives me a valuable consideration in new kind- 
ness, (purchasing, as it were, the wrong I have done 
him), in order to renew our amity, and make us friends 
again.' 

3 Shakspeare poetically calls the cere-cloths, in which 
the dead are wrapped, the bonds of death. There was 
no distinction in ancient orthography between seare, to 
dry, to wither ; and seare, to dress or cover with wax. 
Cere-cloth is most frequently spelled seare-cloth. In 
Kamlet we have : — 

' Why, thy canonized bones hearsed in death 
Have burst their cerements.'' 

4 l. e. while I have sensation to retain it. There can 
be no doubt that it refers to the ring, and it is equally 
obvious that thee would have been more proper. Whe- 
ther tins error is to be laid to the poet's charge or to that 
of careless printing, it would not be easy to decide. 
Malone, however, has shown that there are many pas- 
sages in these plays of equally loose construction. 

5 i. e. renovate my youth, make me young again 



' To repaire (according to Baret) is to restore to the 
first state, to renew.' So in All's Well that Enda 
Well :— 

• it much repairs me 

To talk of your good father.' 

6 Sir Thomas Hammer reads : — 

' thou heapest many 

A year's age on me f 
Some such emendation seems necessary. 

7 ' A touch more rare' is ' a more exquisite feeling, 
a superior sensation.' So in The Tempest : — 

' Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions.' 
And in Antony and Cleopatra : — 

'The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, 
Do stronely speak to us.' 
A passage in King Lear will illustrate Imogen's mean* 
ing: — 

« where the greater malady is fix'd, 

The lesser is scarce felt.' 
9 A puttock is a mean degenerate species of hawk 
too worthless to deserve training. 
9 ' My worth is not half equal to bis ' 



Scene IV. 



CYMBELINE. 



Sll 



Leave us to ourselves ; and make yourself some 

comfort 
Out of your best advice. 1 

Cym. Nay, let her languish 

A drop of blood a day ; and, being aged, 
Die of this folly ! 2 ' [Exit. 

Enter Pisanio. 

Queen. Fie ! — you must give way : 

Here is your servant. — How now, sir ? What news ? 

Pis. My lord, your son drew on my master. 

Queen. Ha ! 

No harm, I trust, is done ? 

Pis. There might have been, 

But that my master rather play'd than fought, 
And had no help of anger : they were parted 
By gentlemen at hand. 

Queen. I am very glad on't. 

Imo. Your son's my father's friend : he takes his 
part. — 
To draw upon an exile ! — O brave sir ! — 
I would they were in Afric both together ; 
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick 
The goer back. — Why came you from your mas- 
ter ? 

Pis. On his command : He would not suffer mc 
To bring him to the haven : left these notes 
Of what oommands I should be subject to, 
When it pleas'd you to employ me. 

Queen. This hath been 

Your faithful servant : I dare lay mine honour, 
He will remain so. 

Pis. I humbly thank your highness. 

Queen. Pray, walk a while. 

Imo. About some half hour hence, 

I pray you, speak with me : you shall, at least, 
Go see my lord aboard : for this time, leave me. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A public Place. Enter Cloten, 
and two Lords. 

1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to take a shirt ; 
the violence of action hath made you reek as a 
sacrifice : Where air comes out, air comes in : 
there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. 

Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it — 
Have I hurt him ? 

2 Lord. No, faith ; not so much as his patience. 

[Aside. 

1 Lord. Hurt him ? his body's a passable carcass, 
if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel if it 
be not hurt. 

2 Lord. His steel was in debt ; it went o' the 
backside the town. [Aside. 

Clo. The villain would not stand me. 
2 Lord. No ; but he fled forward still, toward 
your face. [Aside. 

1 Lord. Stand you ! you have land enough of 
your own : but he added to your having ; gave you 
some ground. 

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans : 
Puppies ! [Aside. 

Clo. I would, they had not come between us. 

2 Iyyrd. So would I, till you had measured how 
tons a fool you were upon the ground. [Aside. 

Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and re- 
fuse me ! 

2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she 
is damned. [Aside. 



1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and 
her brain go not together : She's a good sign, but I 
have seen small reflection of her wit. 3 

2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the re- 
flection should hurt her. [Aside. 

Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber : 'Would there 
had been some hurt done ! 

2 Lord. I wish not so ; unless it had been the 
fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. [Aside. 

Clo. You'll go with us ? 

1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
Clo. Nay, come, let's go together. 

2 Lord. Well, my lord. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. 
Enter Imogen and Pisanio. 
Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the 
haven, 
And question'dst every sail : if he should write, 
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost 
As offer'd mercy is.* What was the last 
That he spake to thee ? 

Pis. 'Twas, His queen, his queen ! 

Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief? 
Pis. And kiss'd it, madam 

Imo. Senseless linen ! happier therein than I !— 
And that was all ? 

Pis. No, madam ; for so long 

As he could make me with this eye or ear 5 
Distinguish him from others, he did keep 
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, 
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind 
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, 
How swift his ship. 

Imo. Thou should'st have made him 

As little as a crow, or less, 6 ere left 
To after-eye him. 

Pis. Madam, so I did. 

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings ; 
crack'd them, but 
To look upon him ; till the diminution 
Of space 7 had pointed him sharp as my needle: 
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from 
The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then 
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. — But, good Pi- 
sanio, 
When shall we hear from him ? 

Pis. Be assur'd, madam, 

With his next vantage. 8 

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had 
Most pretty things to say : ere I could tell him, 
How I would think on him, at certain hours, 
Such thoughts, and such ; or I could make him swear 
The shes of Italy should not betray 
Mine interest, and his honour ; or have charg'd him. 
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight. 
To encounter me with orisons, for then 
I am in heaven for him : 9 or ere I could 
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set 
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, 
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, 
Shakes all our buds from growing."' 
Enter a Lady. 
Lady. The queen, madam, 

Desires your highness' company. 



1 Advice is consideration, reflection. Thus in Mea. 
sure for Measure :— 

' But did repent me after more advice.'' 
1 This is a bitter form of malediction, almost conge- 
nial to that in Othello : — 

' may his pernicious soul 

Rot half a grain a day.' 
3 ' Her beauty and her sense are not equal.' To un- 
derstand the force of this idea, it should be remembered 
that anciently almost every sign had a rcotto, or some 
attempt at a witticism underneath. In a subsequent 
scene Iachimo, speaking of Imogen, says ; — 
' All of her that is out of door, most rich ! 
If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, 
She is alone the Arabian bird ' 



4 ' Its loss would be as fatal as the loss of intended 
mercy to a condemned criminal.' A thought resem- 
bling this occurs in All's Well that Ends Well : — 

' Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried.' 

5 The old copy reads, 'his eye or ear.' 

6 This comparison may be illustrated by the follow- 
ing in King Lear : — 

' the crows and choughs that wing the mid 

way air, 
Seem scarce so gross as beetles.' 

7 The diminution of space is the diminution of which* 
space is the cause. 

8 Opportunity. 

9 i. e. 'to meet me with reciprocal prayer, for thenm/ 
solicitations ascend to heaven on his behalf.' 

10 i. e. our buds of love, likened to the buds of flower*,. 
So in Romeo and Juliet : — 
' This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.* 



312 



CYMBELINE. 



Act I. 



Jmo. Those things I bid you do, get them de- 
spatched. — 
I will attend the queen. 

Pi's. Madam, I shall. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Rome. An Apartment in Philario's 
Mouse. Enter Philario, Iachimo, a French- 
man, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard. 1 

Iach. Believe it, sir : I have seen him in Britain ; 
he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove 
so worthy, as since he hath been allowed the name 
of; but I could then have looked on him without 
the help of admiration ; though the catalogue of his 
endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to 
peruse him by items. 

Phi. You speak of him when he was less fur- 
nished, than now he is, with that which makes 2 
him both without and within. 

French. I have seen him in France : we had 
very many there, could behold the sun with as firm 
eyes as he. 

Iach. This matter of marrying his king's daugh- 
ter, (wherein he must be weighed rather by her 
value, than his own,) words him, I doubt not, a 
great deal from the matter.* 

French. And then his banishment : 

Iach. Ay, and the approbation of those, that 
weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours, 
are wonderfully to extend 4 him ; be it but to fortify 
her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay 
flat, for taking a beggar without more 5 quality. But 
how comes it, he is to sojourn with you j How 
creeps acquaintance ? 

Phi. His father and I were soldiers together ; 
to whom I have been often bound for no less than 

my life : 

Enter Posthumus. 
Here comes the Briton : Let him be so entertained 
amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your 
knowing, to a stranger of his quality. — I beseech 
you all, be better known to this gentleman ; whom 
I commend to you, as a noble friend of mine : 
How worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, 
rather than story him in his own hearing. 

French. Sir, we have known together In Orleans. 

Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for 
courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet 
pay still. 

French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness : I 
was glad I did atone 6 my countryman and you ; it 
had been pity, you should have been put together 
with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon 
importance' of so slight and trivial a nature. 

Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young 
traveller : rather shumi'd to go even with what I 
heard, than in my every action to be guided by 
others' experiences: 8 but, upon my mended judg- 
ment, (if I offend not to say it is mended,) my quar- 
rel was not altogether slight. 

French. 'Faith, yes, uTbe put to the arbitrement 
of swords ; and by such two, that would, by all 
likelihood, have confounded 9 one the other, or have 
fallen both. 

Iach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the 
difference ? 



1 This enumeration of persons is from the old copy ; 
but Mynheer ami the Don are mute characters. 
•2 i. e. accomplishes him. 

3 ' Words him— a great deal from the matter,' makes 

•the description of him very distant from the truth. 

•J i. e. to magnify his good qualities. See Act i. Sc. 1. 

5 The old copy reads, less. The poet has in other 

places entangled himself with the force of this word in 

construction. Thus in the Winter's Tale : — 

' I ne'er heard yet 

That any of these bolder vices iranted 
Lr-ss impudence to gainsay what they did, 
Than to perform it first.' 
.6 i. e reconcile. 
"7 Importance is importunity. 

8 ' Rather studied to avoid conducting himself by the 
©pinions of others, than to be guided by their experi- 
ence; 5 



French. Safely, I think : 'twas a contention in 
public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the 
report. It was much like an argument that fell out 
last night, where each of us fell in praise of our 
country mistresses : This gentleman at that time 
vouching, (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation,) 
his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant- 
qualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest 
of our ladies in France. 

Iach. That lady is not now living ; or this gentle- 
man's opinion, by this, worn out. 

Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. 

Iach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours 
of Italy. 

Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, 
I would abate her nothing ; though I profess myself 
her adorer, not her friend. 10 

Iach. As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-in- 
hand comparison,) had been something too fair, 
and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went 
before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours 
out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but be- 
lieve 11 she excelled many: but I have not seen the 
most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. 

Post. I praised her, as I rated her : so do I my 
stone. 

Iach. VV hat do you esteem it at? 

Post. More than the world enjoys. 

Iach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, 
or she's outpriz'd by a trifle. 

Post. You are mistaken : the one may bo sold, 
or given ; if there were wealth enough for the pur- 
chase, or merit for the gift : the other is not a thing 
for sale, and only the gift of the gods. 

Iach. Which the gods have given you? 

Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep. 

Iach. You may wear her in title yours : but, yon 
know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. 
Your ring may be stolen, too: so, of your brace of 
unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and 
the other casual : a cunning thief, or a that-way 
accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning 
both of first and last. 

Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished 
a courtier, to convince 12 the honour of my mistress ; 
if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. 
I do nothing doubt, you have store of thieves ; not- 
withstanding I fear not my ring. 

Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen. 

Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy sig- 
nior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me ; we 
are familiar at first. 

Iach. With five times so much conversation, I 
should get round of your fair mistress: make her 
go back, even to the yielding ; had I admittance, 
and opportunity to friend. 

Post. No, no. 

Iach. I dare, thereon, pawn the moiety of my 
estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'er- 
values it something. But I make my wager rather 
against your confidence, than her reputation : and, 
to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it 
against any lady in the world. 



9 i. e. destroyed. So in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii. 
Sc. 2 :— 

' What willingly he did confound he wail'd.' 

10 Friend and lover were formerly synonymous. Pos- 
thumus means to bestow the most exalted praise on 
Imogen, a praise the more valuable as it was the result 
of reason, not of amorous dotage. I make my avowal, 
says he, in the character of her adorer, not of her pos 
sessor. I speak of her as a being I reverence, not as a 
beauty I enjoy. I rather profess to describe her with 
the devotion of a worshipper, than the raptures of a lover. 
This sense of the word also appears in a subsequent re 
mark of Iachimo : — 

' You are a. friend, and therein the wiser.' 
i. e. you are a lover, and therefore show your wisdom 
in opposing all experiments that may bring your lady's 
chastity imo question. 

1 1 The old copy reads, ' I could not believe she exceli'i 
many.' Mr. Heath proposed to read, ' I could but be- 
lieve,' &c. The emendation in the text is Malone'3 

12 i. e. overcome. 



L_ 



Scene VI. 



CYMBELINE. 



313 



Post. You are a great deal abused 1 in too bold 
a persuasion ; and I doubt not you sustain what 
you're worihy of, by your attempt. 

lack. What's that? 

Post. A repulse : Though your attempt, as you 
call it, deserves more ; a punishment too. 

Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this : it came in too 
suddenly ; let it die as it was born, and, I pray, 
you, be better acquainted. 

lack. 'Would I had put my estate, and my neigh- 
bour's, on the approbation 2 of what I have spoke. 

Post. What lady would you choose to assail ? 

lach. Yours ; whom in constancy, you think, 
stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats 
to your ring, that, commend me to the court where 
your lady is, with no more advantage than the op- 
portunity of a second conference, and I will bring 
from thence that honour of hers, which you imagine 
so reserved. 

Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it : 
niv ring I hold dear as my finger ; 'tis part of it. 

lack. You are a friend, 3 and therein the wiser. 
If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you 
eannot preserve it from tainting : But, I see, you 
have some religion in you, that you fear. 

Post. This is but a custom in your tongue ; you 
bear a graver purpose, I hope. 

lack. lam the master of my speeches ; 4 and would 
undergo what's spoken, I swear. 

Post. Will you ? — I shall but lend my diamond 
till your return: — Let there be covenants drawn 
between us : My mistress exceeds in goodness the 
hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to 
this match : here's my ring. 

Phi. I will have it no lay. 

lach. By the gods, it is one : If I bring you no 
sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest 
bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand du- 
cats are yours ; so is your diamond too. If I come 
off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust 
in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are 
yours : — provided, I have your commendation, for 
my more free entertainment. 

Post. I embrace these conditions ; let us have 
articles betwixt us : — only, thus far you shall an- 
swer. If you make your voyage upon her, and give 
me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am 
no further your enemy, she is not worth our debate ; 
if she remain unseduced, (you not making it appear 
otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault you 
have made to her chastity, you shall answer me 
with your sword. 

lach. Your hand ; a covenant : We will have 
these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight 
away for Britain ; lest the bargain should catch 
cold, and starve : I will fetch my gold, and have 
our two wagers recorded. 

Post. Agreed. [Exeunt Post, and Iach. 

French. Will this hold, think you'/ 

Phi. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let 
us follow 'em. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. Britain. A Room in Cymbeline's 
Palace. Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius. 

Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather 
those flowers ; 
Maxe haste : Who has the note of them ? 



1 i. e. deceived. 

' The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave.' 

Othello. 

2 i. e. proof 

' how many now in health 

Shall drop their blood in approbation 
Of what your reverence shall incite us to.' 

King Henry V. 

3 See note 10 in the preceding page. 

4 ' I know what I have said; I said no more than I 
meant.' 

5 Conclusions are experiments. ' I commend (says 
Walton) an angler that trieth conclusions, and improves 
his art.' 

6 ' This thought would probably have been more 
amplified, had our author lived to be shocked with such 



1 Lady. I, madam. 
Queen. Despatch. 



[Exeunt Ladies. 
Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs? 

Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay : here they are, 
madam : [Presenting a small Pox. 

But I beseech your grace, (without offence ; 
My conscience bids me ask;) wherefore you have 
Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, 
Which are the movers of a languishing death ; 
But, though slow, deadly '! 

Queen. I do wonder, doctor, 

Thou ask'st me such a question : Have I not been 
Thy pupil long ? Hast thou not learn'd me how 
To make perfumes ? distil '! preserve ? yea, so, 
That our great king himself doth woo me oft 
For my confections / Having thus far proceeded, 
(Unless thou think'st me devilish,) is't not meet 
That I did amplify my judgment in 
Other conclusions ? 5 I will try the forces 
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as 
We count not worth the hanging, (but none human,) 
To try the vigour of them, and apply 
Allayments to their act; and by them gather 
Their several virtues, and effects. 

Cor. Your highness, 

Shall from this practice but make hard your heart ;6 
Besides, the seeing these effects will be 
Both noisome and infectious. 

Queen. O, content thee. — 

Enter Pisanio. 
Here comes a flattering rascal ; upon him [Aside. 
Will I first work : he's for his master, 
And enemy to my son. — How now, Pisanio?— 
Doctor, your service for this time is ended ; 
Take your own way. 

Cor. I do suspect you, madam ; 

But you shall do no harm. [Aside. 

Queen. Hark thee, a word. — 

[To Pisanio. 

Cor. [Aside.] I do not like her. 7 She doth think 
she has 
Strange lingering poisons : I do know her spirit, 
And will not trust one of her malice with 
A drug of such damn'd nature : Those, she has 
Will stupify and dull the sense awhile : 
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and 

dogs ; 
Then afterward up higher : but there is 
No danger in what show of death it makes, 
More than the locking up the spirits a time, 
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd 
With a most false effect ; and I the truer, 
So to be false with her. 

Queen. No further service, doctor, 

Until I send for thee. 

Cor. 1 humbly take my leave. 

[Exit. 

Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou ? Dost thou 
think, in time 
She will not quench ;° and let instructions enter 
Where folly now possesses ? Do thou work ; 
When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son, 
I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then 
As great as is thy master : greater ; for 
His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name 
Is at last gasp : Return he cannot, nor 
Continue where he is ; to shift his being, 9 
Is to exchange one misery with another ; 

experiments as have been published in later times, by a 
race of men who have practised tortures without pity, 
and related them without shame, and are yet suffered 
to erect their heads among human beings.' 

' Cape saxa manu, cape robora, pastor.' 

Johnson. 

7 This soliloquy is pronounced by Johnson to be 
'very inartificial, and that Cornelius makes a long 
speech to tell himself what himself knows.' The great 
critic forgot that it was intended for the instruction of the 
audience, to relieve their anxiety at mischievous in- 
gredients being left in the hands of the Queen. It is no 
less useful to prepare us for the return of Imogen to 
life. 

8 i. e. grow cooL 9 To change his abode. 



314 



CYMBELINE. 



Act ! 



And every day, that comes, comes to decay 
A daWs workln him : What shalt thou expect, 
To be depender on a thing that eans / 
Who cannot be new built: nor has no friends, 

[The Queen drops a Sox : Pisanio takes it up. 
So much as but to prop him ?-Thou tak'st up 
Thou know'st not what ; but take it for thy labour : 
It is a thing I made, which hath the king 
Five times g redeem'd from death: I do not know 
What is more cordial :-Nay, I pr'ythee, take it , 
It is an earnest of a further good 
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how 
The case stands with her; do*t, as ; from , thy elf 
Think what a chance thou changes! on ; 2 but think 
Thou hast thy mistress still ; to boot, my son, 
Who shall take notice of thee ; I'll move the kmg 
To any shape of thy preferment, such 
As thou'lt desire ; and men myself, I chiefly, 
That set thee on to this desert, am bound 
To load thy merit richly. Call my women; 
Think on my words. [Exit Pisa.]-A sly and 

constant knave ; 
Not to be shak'd : the agent for his master ; 
And the remembrancer of her, to hold 
The hand fast to her lord.-I have given him that, 
Which, if he take, shall quite ynpe°P le , ner . 
Of liegers' for her sweet; and which she, alter, 
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur d 
Re-enter Pisanio, and Ladies. 



To taste of too.-So, so ;-well done, well done . 
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, 
Bear to my closet :-Fare thee well, Pisanio; 
Thmk on my words. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies 

Pig And shall do:* 

But when to my good lord I prove untrue, 
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit. 
SCENE VII. Another Room in the same. Enter 
Imogen. 
Jmo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false ; 
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, 
That hath her husband bamsh'd ;-0, that husband . 
Mv supreme crown of grief! and those repeated 
Vexations of it ! Had I been thief-stolen, 
As my two brothers, happy ! but most miserable 
Is the desire that's glonous :> Blessed be those, 
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, 
Which seasons comfort.— Who may this be ? Fie . 
Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. 
Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome ; 
Comes from mv lord with letters. 

lach. Change you, madam .' 

The worthy Leonatus is in safety, 
And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter. 
Imo. Thanks, good sir: 

You are kindly welcome. 
lach. All of her, that is out of door, most rich. 

[Aside, 



If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, 
She is alone the Arabian bird ; and I 
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend . 
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot ! 
Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight ; 
Rather, directly fly. 

Imo. [Reads.]— He is one of the noblest note, la 
whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect 
upon him accordingly, as you value your truest 
r Leonatus. 

So far I read aloud : 

But even the very middle of my heart 

Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thanktully.— 

You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I 

Have words to bid you ; and shall find it so, 

In all that I can do. 

lach Thanks, fairest lady. — 

What ' are men mad ? Hath nature given them eye* 
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 
Of sea and land, which can distinguish twixt 
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones 
Upon the number'd beach V and can we not 
Partition make with spectacles so precious 

'Twixt fair and foul ? . . , .« 

j m0 What makes your admiration / 

lach. It cannot be i' the eye; for apes and monkey3 
'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and 
Contemn with mows" the other: Nori' the judgment; 
For idiots, in this case of favour, would 
Be wisely definite : Nor i' the appetite ; 
Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos d, 
Should make desire vomit emptiness, 
Not so allur'd to feed. 9 

Imo. What is the matter, trow 1 
lach. . The cloyed win, 

(That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, 
That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first 
The lamb, longs after for the garbage. 

Imo ' = What, dear sir, 

Thus raps you? Are you well ? 

lach. Thanks, madam; well :— ' Beseech you, 
sir, desire [To Pisanio. 

My man's abode where I did leave him : he 
Is strange and peevish. 10 

p,-, I was going, sir, 

To give him welcome. f£*a Pisawio. 

Imo. Continues well my lord / His health, be- 
seech you? 

lach. Well, madam. 

Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth ? I hope, he is. 

lach. Exceeding pleasant ; none a stranger there 
So merry and so gamesome : he is call'd 
The Briton reveller. 

j m0 _ When he was here, 

He did incline to sadness ; and oft-times 
Not knowing why. . 

/ ac ^, I never saw him sad. 

There is a Frenchman his companion, one, 
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves 



1 That inclines towards its fall. 

2 < Think with what a fair, prospect of mending your 
fortunes you now change your present service.' It has 
been proposed to read :— 

'Think what a chance thou chancest on.' 

' ' Think what a change thou chancest on.' 
But there seems to be no necessity for alteration. 

3 A /,e°-er ambassador is one that resides in a foreign 
court to promote his master's interest. So in Measure 
for Measure : — _ . , 

' Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, 
Intends you for his swift embassador, 
Where you shall be an everlasting hegerS 

4 Some words, which rendered this sentence less 
abrupt, and perfected the metre of it, appear to have 
been omitted in the old copies. 

5 Imogen's sentiment appears to be, Had I been 
stolen by thieves in my infancy, I had been happy. Bu 
how pregnant with misery is that station which is called 
glorious, and so much desired. Happier far are those, 
how mean soever their condition, that have their honest 
wills ; it is this which seasons comfort,' (l. e. tempers it, 
or makes it more pleasant and acceptable.) See Ham- 
iet, Act i Sc 3 ;— ' My blessing season this in you.' 



6 The old copy reads, trust. The emendation was 
suggested by Mason ; is defended by Steevens ; and, of 
course, opposed by Malone. 

7 We must either believe that the poet by ' number'* 
beach' means 'numerous beach,' or else that he wrote 
' th> unnumbered beach ;' which, indeed, seems most 
probable. 

8 To mow or moe, is to make mouths. 

9 Iachimo, in his counterfeited rapture has shown 
how the eyes and the judgment would determine in 
favour of Imogen, comparing her with the suppositi- 
tious present mistress ofPosthumus, he proceeds to say, 
that appetite too would give the same suffrage. Desire 
(says he) when it approached stutter,, and considered 
it in comparison with such neat excellence, would not 
only be not so allured to feed, but, seized with a fit of 
loathing, would vomit emptiness, would feel the con 
vulsions of disgust, though, being unfed, it had no ob- 

J To'i e he is a foreigner ani foolish, or silly. Iachimo 
says again at the latter end of this scene :— 

' And I am something curioua, being strange 

To have them in safe stowage.' 
Here also strange means a stranger or foreigner. 



Scene VII. 



CYMBELINE. 



315 



A Gallian g&rl at home : he furnaces' 

The thick sighs from him ; whiles the jolly Briton, 

(Your lord, I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, 

cries, O ! 
Can my sides hold, to think, that man, — who knows 
By history, report, or his own proof, 
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose 
But must he, — will his free hours languish for 
' Assured bondage 1 

Imo. Will my lord say so ? 

Jach. Ay, madam ; with his eyes in flood with 
laughter. 
It is a recreation to be by, 
And hear him mock the Frenchman : But, heavens 

know, 
Some men are much to blame. 

Imo. Not he, I hope. 

lach. Not he : But yet heaven's bounty towards 
him might 
Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much ; 2 
In you, — which I count his, beyond all talents, — 
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound 
To pity too. 

Imo. What do you pity, sir 

lach. Two creatures, heartily. 

Imo. Am I one, sir ? 

You look on me ; What wreck discern you in roe, 
Deserves your pity ? 

lach. Lamentable! What'. 

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace 
I' the dungeon by a snufF? 

Imo. I pray you, sir, 

Deliver with more openness your answers 
To my demands. Why do you pity me ? 

lach. That others do, 

I was about to say, enjoy your But 

It is an office of the gods to venge it, 
Not mine to speak on't. 

Imo. You do seem to know 

Something of me, or what concerns me ; 'Pray you 
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more 
Than to be sure they do : For certainties 
Either are past remedies ; or, timely knowing, 3 
The remedy then born,) discover to me 
What both you spur and stop.* 

lach. Had I this cheek 

To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch, 
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul 
To the oath of loyalty ; this object, which 
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, 
Fixing it only here : should I, (damn'd then,) 
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
That mount the Capitol ; join guipes with hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood, 5 (falsehood, as 
With labour ;) then lie peeping in an eye, 
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
That's fed with stinking tallow ; it were fit, 
That all the plagues of hell should at one time 
Encounter such revolt. 

Imo. My lord, I fear, 

Has forgot Britain. 

lach. And himself. Not I, 

Incliri'd to this intelligence, pronounce 



1 Weha\ethe same expression in Chapman's pre- 
face to his translation of the Shield of Homer, 1598 : — 
' Furnuceth the universal sighes and complaintes of 
this transposed world.' And in As You Like It : 

' Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad.' 

2 'If he merely regarded his own character, without 
any consideration of his wife, his conduct would be un- 
pardonable.' 

3 It seems probable that knowing is here an error of 
the press for known. 

4 ' The information which you se>em to press forward 
and yet withhold.' The allusion is to horsemanship. 
So in Sidney's Arcadia : — ' She was like a horse desi- 
rous to runne, and miserably spurred, but so short- 
reined, as he cannot stirre forward.' 

5 Hard with falsehood is hard by being often griped 
with frequent change of hands. 

6 Empery is a word signifying sovereign command, 
now obsolete. Shakspeare uses it in King Richard 
III.:- 

' Your right of birth, your empery your own.' 



The beggary of his change ; but 'tis your graces 
That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue, 
Charms this report out. 

Imo. Let me hear no more. 

lach. O, dearest soul ! your cause doth strike my 
heart 
With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady 
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, 6 
Would make the great'st king double ! to be part- 

ner'd 
With tomboys, 7 hir'd with that self-exnibition 
Which your own coffers yield ! with diseas'd 

ventures, 
That play with all infirmities for gold, 
Which rottenness can lend nature ! such boil'd 

stuff, 8 
As well might poison poison ! Be reveng'd ; 
Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you 
Recoil from your great stock. 

Imo. Reveng'd ! 

How should I be reveng'd ? If this be true, 
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears 
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true, 
How should I be reveng'd ? 

lach. Should he make me 

Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; 
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, 
In your despite, upon your purse ? Revenge it. 
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure ; 
More noble than that runagate to your bed ; 
And will continue fast to your affection, 
Still close, as sure. 

Imo. What ho, Pisanio * 

lach. Let me my service tender on your lips. 

Imo. Away ! — I do condemn mine ears, thathavo 
So long attended thee. — If thou wert honourable, 
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not 
For such an end thou seek'st ; as base, as strange. 
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far 
From thy report, as thou from honour ; and 
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains 
Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio !— 
The king my father shall be made acquainted 
Of thy assault : if he shall think it fit, 
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart 
As in a Romish 3 stew, and to expound 
His beastly mind to us ; he hath a court 
He little cares for, and a daughter whom 
He not respects at all. — What ho, Pisanio ! 

lach. O, happy Leonatus ! I may say ; 
The credit, that thy lady hath of thee, 
Deserves thy trust ; and thy most perfect goodness 
Her assur'd credit ! — Blessed live you long ! 
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever 
Country call'd his ! and you his mistress, only 
For the most worthiest fit ! Give me your pardon. 
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance 
Were deeply rooted ; and shall make your lord, 
That which he is, new o'er ; And he is one 
The truest manner'd ; such a holy witch, 
That he enchants societies unto him: 10 
Half all men's hearts are his. 

Imo. You make amends. 



7 We still call a forward or rude hoyden a tomboy 
But our ancestors seem to have used the term for a 
wanton. 

' What humorous tomboys be these ? — 
The only gallant Messalinas of our age.' 

Lady Mimony. 
S This allusion has been already explained. See 
Timon of Athens, Act ii. Sc. 3. 

9 Romish for Roman was the phraseology of Shak- 
speare's age. Thus in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607 : 
— ' In the loathsome Romish stewes, Drant, in his trans- 
lation of the first epistle of the second book of Horace. 
1567, has— 

' The Romishe people wise in this, in this point only 
just.' 
And in other places we have the ' Romish cirque,' &c. 

10 ' he did in the general bosom reign 

Of young and old, and sexes both enchanted- 
Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted 



316 



CYMBELINE. 



Act IX. 



Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god : ' 
He hath a kind of honour sets him off, 
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, 
Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd 
To try your taking of a false report ; which hath 
Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment 
In the election of a sir so rare. 
Which, you know, cannot err : The love I bear him 
Made me to fan you thus ; but the gods made you, 
Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon. 

Imo. All's well, sir : Take my power i' the court 
for yours. 

Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot 
To entreat your grace but in a small request, 
And yet of moment too, for it concerns 
Your lord ; myself, and other noble friends, 
Are partners in the business. 

Into. Pray, what is't? 

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord, 
(The best feather of our wing, 2 ) have mingled sums, 
To buy a present for the emperor ; 
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done 
In France : 'Tis plate, of rare device ; and jewels, 
Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; 
And I am something curious, being strange, 5 
To have them in safe stowage ; May it please you 
To take them in protection 7 

Imo. Willingly ; 

And pawn mine honour for their safety : since 
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them 
In my bed-chamber. 

Iach. They are in a trunk, 

Att( tided by my men: I will make bold 
To send them to you, only for this night ; 
I must abroad to-morrow. 

Imo. O, no, no. 

Iach. Yes, I beseech ; or I shall short my word, 
By lcngth'ning my return. From Gallia 
I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise 
To see your grace. 

Imo. I thank you for your pains ; 

But not away to-morrow ? 

Iach. O, I must, madam : 

Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please 
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night : 
I have outstood my time ; which is material 
To the tender of our present. 

Imo. I will write. 

Send your trunk to me ; it shall safe be kept, 
And truly yielded vou : You are very welcome. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. Court before Cymbeline's Palace.— 
Enter Cloten, and two Lords. 

Clo. Was there ever man had such luck ! when 
I kissed the jack upon an upcast, 4 to be hit away ! 
I had a hundred pound on't : And then a whoreson 
jackanapes must take me up for swearing ; as if I 
borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend 
them at my pleasure. 

1 Ijord. What got he by that ? You have broke 
his pate with your bowl. 

2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke 
it, it would have ran all out. [Aside. 

Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it 
is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths : Ha ? 

2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor [visidej crop the ears 
of them. 



1 So in Chapman's version of the twenty-third book 
of the Odyssey : — 

' — - as he were 

A god descended from the starry sphere.' 
And in Hamlet: — 

' a station like the herald Mercury 

New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.' 

2 ' You are so great you would faine march in fielde, 
That world should judge you feathers of one wing." 1 

Churchyard's Warning to Wanderers, 1593. 

3 See note 10, p. 314, ante. 

4 He is describing hia fate at bowls. The jack is the 



Clo. Whoreson dog! — I give him satisfaction? 
'Would, he had been one of my rank ! 

2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. 5 [Aside. 

Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the 
earth, — A pox on't ! I had rather not be so noble 
as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of 
the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his 
belly full of righting, and I must go up and down 
like a ccck that nobody can match. 

2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too ; and you 
crow, cock, with your comb on. 6 [Aside. 

Clo. Sayest thou ? 

1 Ijord. It is not fit, your lordship should under- 
take ever)' companion 7 that you give offence to. 

Clo. No, I know that : but it is fit, I should com- 
mit offence to my inferiors. 

2 Ijird. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. 
Clo. Why, so I say. 

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come 
to court to-night ? 

Clo. A stranger ! and I know not on't! 

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows 
it not. [Aside. 

1 Lord. There's an Italian come ; and, 'tis thought, 
one of Leonatus' friends. 

Clo. Leonatus ! a banished rascal ; and he's 
another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this 
stranger ? 

1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. 

Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him ? Is there 
no d< rogation in't ? 

1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. 
Clo. Not easily, I think. 

2 Lord. You are a fool granted ; therefore your 
issues being foolish, do not derogate. [Aside. 

Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian : Yvliat I 
have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. 
Come, go. 

2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 

[Exeunt Cloten and first Lord. 
That such a crafty devil as is his mother 
Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that 
Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son 
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, 
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, 
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st! 
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd; 
A mother hourly coining plots ; a wooer, 
More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
Of ih v dear husband, than that horrid act 
Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm 
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd 
That temple, thy fair mind ; that thou may'st stand, 
To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land ! 

[Exit. 

SCENE II. A Bedchamber ; in one part of it a 
Trunk. Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady 
attending. 

Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen ? 

Lady. Please you, madam. 

Imo. What hour is it ? 

Lady. Almost midnight, madam 

Imo. I have read three hours, then ; mine eyes 
are weak : — 
Fold down the leaf where I have left : To bed : 
Take not awav the taper, leave it burning ; 
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, 
I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. 

J Exit Lady. 
, s • 



small bowl at which the others are aimed: he who is 
nearest to it wins. 'To kiss the jack' is a state of great 
advantage. The expression is of frequent occurrence 
in the old comedies. The jack is also called the mis* 
tress. 

5 The same quibble has occurred in As You Like It, 
Act i. Sc. 2 :— 

' Touch. Nay, if I kept not my rank. 
Res. Thou losest thy old smell.'' 

6 That is, in other words, you are a coxcomb. 

7 The use of companion was the same as of fellov 
now. It was a word of contempt. 



ScfcNE in. 



CYMBfiLINE. 



317 



From fairies, ana the tempters of the night, 
Guard me, beseech ye! 

[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the Trunk. 
Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd 
sense 
Repairs itself by rest : Our Tarquin thus 
Did softly press the rushes, 1 ere he waken'd 
The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea, 
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily ! 
And vyhiter than the sheets ! That I might touch ! 
But kiss ; one kiss ! — Rubies unparagon'd, 
How dearly they do't !-°-'Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus : 2 The flame o' the taper 
Bows toward her ; and would underpeep her lids, 
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
Under these windows : 3 White and azure, lae'd 
With blue of heaven's own tmct. 4 — But my design ? 
To note the chamber : — I will write all down : — 
Such, and such, pictures : — There the window : — 

Such 
The adornment of her bed ; — The arras, figures, 
Why, such, and such: — And the contents o' the 

story, — 
Ay, but some natural notes about her body, 
Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory : 
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! 
And be her sense but as a monument, 
Thus in a chapel lying ! — Come off, come off; — 

[Taking off her Bracelet. 
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard ! — 
'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly, 
As strongly- as the conscience does within, 
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
I' the bottom of a cowslip : Here's a voucher, 
Stronger than ever law could make : this secret 
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en 
The treasure of her honour. No more. — To what 

end? 
Why should I write this down, that's riveted, 
Screw'd to my memory ? She hath been reading late 
The tale of Tereus ; 5 here the leaf's turn'd down, 
Where Philomel gave up : — I have enough : 
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
Swift, swift, you dragons of the. night! 6 — that 

dawning 
May bare the raven's eye : I lodge in fear ; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 

[ Clock strikes. 
One, two, three, — Time, time ! 

[ Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. 
SCENE III. An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imo- 
gen's Apartment. Enter Cloten and Lords. 
1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in 
loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace. 
Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 
1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the 
noble temper of your lordship ; You are most hot, 
and furious, when you win. 



1 It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with 
, rushes. This passage may serve as a comment on the 

'ravishing strides' of Tarquin, in Macbeth, as it shows 
that Shakspeare meant ' softly stealing strides » 

2 ' — - no lips did seem so fair 

In his conceit ; through which he thinks dothflie 
So sweet a breath that doth perfume the air.' 

Pygmalion's Image, by Marston, 1598. 

3 That is, her eyelids. - So in Romeo and Juliet: 

' Thy eyes' windows fall 

Like death when he shuts up the day of life.' 

4 Warburton wished to read : — 

' White with azure lae'd, 

The blue of heaven's own tinct.' 
But there is no necessity for change. It is sn exact de- 
scription of the eyelid of a fair beauty, which is white 
tinged with blue, and laced with veins of darker blue. 
By azure our ancestors understood not a dark blue, but 
a light glaucous colour, a tinct or effusion of a blue colour. 

5 Tereus and Prognc is the second tale in A Petite 
Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 4to lf"6. The story is 
related in Ovid, Metam. 1. vi. ; and by Gower in his 
Confessio Amantis, b. v. fol. 113, b. 

6 The task of drawing the chariot of Night was as- 



Clo. Winning would put any mar. into courage : 
If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have 
gold enough : It's almost morning, is't not ? 

1 Lord. Day, my lord. 

Clo. I would this music would come : I am 
advised to give her music o' mornings ; they say, 
it will penetrate. 

Enter Musicians. 
Come on ; tune : If you can penetrate her with your 
fingering, so ; we'll try with tongue, too . if none 
will do, let her remain ; but I'll never give o'er. 
First, a very excellent good-conceited thing ; after, 
a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words 
to it, — and then let her consider. 
SONG. 
Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gale sings. 7 

And Phoebus 'gins arise, 
His steeds to water at those springs 
On chalic\P flowers that lies ; 
And winking Mary-buds begin 

To ope their golden eyes; 
With every thing that pretty bin : 
My lady sweet, arise ; 
Arise, arise. 
So, get you gone : If this penetrate, I will consider 
your music the better: 9 if it do not, it is a vice in 
her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the 
voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. 
[Exeunt Musicians. 
Enter Cymbeline and Queen. 
2 Lord. Here comes the kinc. 
Clo. I am glad, I was up so"late ; for, that's the 
reason I was up so early : He cannot choose but 
take this service I have done, fatherly.— Good mor- 
row to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. 
Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern 
daughter ? 
Will she not forth ? 

Clp. I have assailed her with music, but she 
vouchsafes no notice. 

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new ; 
She hath not yet forgot him : some more time 
Must wear the print of his remembrance out, 
And then she's yours. 

Queen. You are most bound to the king ; 

Who lets go by no vantages, that may 
Prefer you to his daughter : Frame yourself 
To orderly solicits ; and be friended 
With aptness of the season : 10 make denials 
Increase your services : so seem, as if 
You were inspir'd to do those duties which 
You tender to her ; that you in all obey her, 
Save when command to your dismission tends, 
And therein you are senseless. 

Cl°- Senseless ? not so. 



signed to dragons, on account of their supposed watch- 
fulness. Milton mentions 'the dragon yoke of ni^ht' 
in II Penseroso ; and in his Comus :— 

' the dragon womb 

Of Stygian darkness.' 
Aga'in, In Obitum Prssulis Eliensis :— 
. ' — 77 sub pedibus deam 
Vidi triformem, dum coercebat snos 

Frasnis dracones aureis.' 
It may be remarked that the whole tribe of serpents 
sleep with their eyes open, and therefore appear to ex- 
ert a constant vigilance. 

7 The same hyperbole occurs in Milton's Paradise 
Lost, book v. — 

' ye birds 

That singing up to heaven's gate ascend.' 
And in Shakspeare's 29th Sonnet :— 

' Like to the lark at break of day arising 

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.' 

8 The morning dries up the dew which lies in the 
nips of flowers called calices, or chalices. The man- 
gold is one of those flowers which closes itself up al 
sunset. 

' the day is waxen olde, 

And 'gins to shut up with the marigold.' 

Browne ; Britania's Pastorals. 

9 i. e. I will pay you more amply for it. 

10 ' With solicitations not only proper but well timed.' 



318 



CYMBEL1NE. 



Act lit 



Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome ; 
The one is Caius Lucius. 

Cym. A worthy fellow, 

Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ; 
But that's no fault of his : We must receive him 
According to the honour of his sender ; 
And towards himself his goodness forespent on us 
We must extend our notice. 1 — Our dear son, 
When you have given good morning to your mistress, 
Attend the queen, and us ; we shall have need 
To employ you towards this Roman. — Come, our 
queen. 
[Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess. 
Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her ; if not, 
Let her lie still, and dream. — By your leave, ho ! — 

[Knocks. 
I know her women are about her ; What 
If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold 
Which buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea, and 

makes 
Diana's rangers false 2 themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the stand of the stealer ; and 'tis gold 
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the 

thief; 
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man : 

What 
Can it not do, and undo? I will make 
One of her women lawyer to me ; for 
I yet not understand the case myself. 
By your leave. [Knocks. 

Enter a Lady. 
Lady. Who's there, that knocks? 
Clo. A gentleman. 

Lady. No more ? 

Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. 
Lady. That's more 

Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, 
Can justly boast of : What's your lordship's plea- 
sure ? 
Clo. Your lady's person : Is she ready ? 
Lady. Ay, 

To keep her chamber. 

Clo. There's gold for you : sell me your good 

report. 
Lady. How ! my good name? or to report of you 

What I shall think is good ? — The princess 

Enter Imogen. 
Clo. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet 

hand. 

Imo. Good morrow, sir : You lay out too much 
pains 
For purchasing but trouble : the thanks I give, 
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, 
And scarce can spare them. 

Clo. Still, I swear, I love you. 

Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me : 
If you swear still, your recompense is still 
That I regard it not. 

Clo. This is no answer. 

Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being 
silent, 
I would not speak. I pray ;you, spare me : i' faith, 
I shall unfold equal discourtesy 
To your best kindness ; one of your great knowing 
Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 3 

Clo. To lea ye you in your madness, 'twere my sin : 
I will not. « 



Imo. Fools are not rnad folks.* 

Clo. Do you call me fool? 

Imo. As I am mad, I do : 
If you'll be patient, I'll no more'be mad ; 
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir 
You put me to forget a lady's manners, 
By being so verbal : i and learn now, for all, 
That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, 
By the very truth of it, I care not for you ; 
And am so near the lack of charily, 
(To accuse myself,) I hate you : which I had rather 
You felt, than niake't my boast. 

Clo. You sin against 

Obedience, which you owe your father. For 
The contract you pretend with that base wretch, 
(One, bred of alms, and foster'd with colu dishes, 
With scraps o' the court,) it is no contract, none : 
And thotrgh it be allow'd in meaner parties, 
(Yet who, than he, more mean ?) to knit their souls, 
(On whom there is no more dependency 
But brats and beggary,) in self-rigur'd knot ; 6 
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by 
The consequence o' the crown ; and must not soil 
The precious note of it with a base slave, 
A hilding' for a livery, a squire's cloth, 
A pander, not so eminent. 

Imo. Profane fellow ! 

Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, 
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base 
To be his groom : thou wert dignified enough, 
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made, 
Comparative for your virtues, 8 to be styl'd 
The under-hangman of his kingdom ; and hated 
For being preferr'd so well. 

Clo. The south-fog rot him ! 

Imo. He never can meet more mischance than 
come 
To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, 
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer, 
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee, 
Were they all made such men. — How now, Pisanio? 

Enter Pisanio. 

Clo. His garment ? Now, the devil 

Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:— 

Clo. His garment? 

Imo. I am spriehted 9 with a fool , 

Frighted, and anger'd worse : — Go, bid my woman 
Search for a jewel, that too casually 
Hath left mine arm ; it was thy master's : 'shrew me, 
If I would lose it for a revenue 
Of any king's in Europe. I do think 
I saw't this morning : Confident I am, 
Last night 'twas on mine arm ; I kiss'd it : 
I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord 
That I kiss aught but he. 

Pit. 'Twill not be lost. 

Imo. I hope so: go, and search. [Exit Pis. 

Clo. You have abus'd me : — 

His meanest garment? 

Imo. Ay ; I said so, sir. 

If you will make't an action, call witness to't. 

Clo. I will inform your father. 

Imo. Your mother too : 

She's my good lady ; 10 and will conceive, I hope, 
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, 
To the worst of discontent. [Exit. 



1 That is, we must extend towards himself our notice 
of his goodness heretofore -shown to us. Shakspeare 
has many similar ellipses. Thus in Julius Caesar : — 

' Thine honourable metal may be wrought 
From what it is dispos'd [to].' 
See the next Scene, note 5. 

2 False is not here an adjective, but a verb. Thus in 
Tamburlaine, Part II. : — 

' And make him false his faith unto the king.' 
Shakspeare has one form of the verb to jaise in The 
CWedy of Errors, Act ii. Sc. 2 :— ' Nay, not sure in a 
thing falsing.' 

■ 3 i. e. ' a man of your knowledge, being taught for- 
bearance, should learn it.' 
4 This, as Oloten very well understands it, is a covert 



mode of calling him a fool. The meaning implied is 
this : ' If I am mad, as you tell me, I am what you can 
never be.' ' Fools are not mad folks.' 

5 i. e. so verbose, so full of talk. 

6 In knots of their own tying. 

7 A low fellow only fit to wear a livery. 

3 ' If you were to be dignified only in comparison to 
your virtues, the under-hangman's place is too good for 
you.' 

Johnson says, that 'the rudeness of Cloten is not 
much undermanned' in that of Imogen ; but he forgeta 
the provocation her gentle spirit undergoes by this per- 
secution of Cloten's addresses, and the abuse bestowed 
upon the idol of her soul. 

9 i. e. haunted by a fool as by a spright. 
10 This is said ironically. ' My good lady' is equiva- 
lent to ' my good friend.' 



SCEHE IV. 



CYMBELINE. 



319 



Clo. I'll be reveng'd : — 
His meanest garment ? — Well. [Exit. 

SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Philario's 
House. Enter Posthumus and Philario. 

Post. Fear it not, sir : I would, I were so sure 
To win the king, as I am bold, her honour 
Will remain hers. 

Phi. What means do you make to him? 

Post. Not any ; but abide the change of time ; 
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish 
That warmer days would come : in these fear'd 

hopes, 
I barely gratify your love ; they failing, 
I must die much your debtor. 

Phi. Your very goodness, and your company, 
O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king 
Hath heard of great Augustus : Caius Lucius 
Will do his commission throughly : And, I think, 
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, 
Or 1 look upon our Romans, whose remembrance 
Is yet fresh in their grief. 

Post. I do believe, 

(Statist 2 though I am none, nor like to be,) 
That this will prove a war ; and you shall hear 
The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed 
In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings 
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen 
Are men more order'd, than when Julius Caesar 
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage 
Worthy his frowning at : Their discipline, 
(Now mingled with their courages,) will make 

known 
To their approvers, 3 they are people, such 
That mend upon the world. 

Enter Iachimo. 

Phi. See ! Iachimo ? 

Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land : 
And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails, 
To make your vessel nimble. 

Phi. Welcome, sir. 

Post. I hope the briefness of your answer made 
The speediness of your return. 

Iach. Your lady 

Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. 

Post. And, therewithal, the best ; or let her beauty 
.Look through a casement to allure false hearts, 
And be false with them. 

Iach. Here are letters for you. 

Post. Their tenor good, I trust. 

Jack. 'Tis very like. 

Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court, 
When you were there? 4 

Iach. He was expected then, 

But not approach'd. 

Post. All is well yet. — 

Sparkles this stone as it was wont ? or is't not 
Too dull for your good wearing? 

Iach. If I have lost it, 

I should have lost the worth of it in gold. 
I'll make a journey twice as far to enjoy 



A second night of such sweet shortness, wTuch 
Was mine in Britain ; for the ring is won. 

Post. The stone's too hard to come by. 

Iach. Not a whit 

Your lady being so easy. 

Post. Make not, sir, 

Your loss your sport : I hope, you know that we 
Must not continue friends. 

Iach. Good sir, we must, 

If you keep covenant: Had I not brought 
The knowledge of vour mistress home, I grant 
We were to question further: but I now 
Profess myself the winner of her honour, 
Together with your ring ; and not the wronger 
Of her, or you, having proceeded but 
By both your wills. 

Post. If you can make't apparent 

That you have tasted her in bed, my hand, 
And ring is yours : if not, the foul opinion 
You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, 
Your sword, or mine ; or masterless leaves both 
To who shall find them. 

Iach. Sir, my circumstances, 

Being so near the truth, as I will make them, 
Must first induce you to believe : whose strength 
I will confirm with oath ; which, I doubt not, 
You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find 
You need it not. 

Post. Proceed. 

Iach. First, her bed-chamber 

(Where, I confess, I slept not ; but, profess, 
Had that was well worth watching, 6 J It was hang'd 
With tapestry of silk and silver ; the story, 
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, 
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for 
The press of boats, or pride : a piece of work 
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive 
In workmanship, and value : which, I wonder'd, 
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, 
Since the true life on't was" ■ 

Post. This is true ; 

And this you might have heard of here, by me, 
Or by some other. 

Iach. More particulars 

Must justify my knowledge. 

Post. So they must, 

Or do your honour injury. 

Iach. The chimney 

Is south the chamber ; and the chimney-piece, 
Chaste Dian, bathing : never saw I figures 
So likely to report themselves : the cutter 
Was as another nature, dumb ;* outwent her, 
Motion and breath left out. 

Post. This is a thing, 

Which you might from relation likewise reap ; 
Being, as it is, much spoke ot. 

Iach. The roof o' the chamber 

With golden cherubins is fretted. 8 Her andirons 
(I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids 
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 
Depending on their brands. 9 



1 Or stands here for pre. Respecting the tribute here 
alluded to, see the Preliminary Remarks. 
y 2 i. e. statesman. 

3 That is, ' to those who try them.' The old copy, 
by a common typographical error in the preceding line, 
has mingled instead of mingled, which odd reading 
Steevens seemed inclined to adopt, and explains it, 
' their discipline borrowing wings from their courage.' 

4 This speech is given to Posthumus in the old copy ; 
but Posthumus was employed in reading his letters, and 
was too much interested in the end of Iachimo' s journey 

o put an indifferent question of this nature. It was 
transferred to Philario at the suggestion of Steevens. 

5 i. e. ' that which was well worth watching or lying 
awake [for].' See the preceding scene. 

6 Mason proposes to read : — 

' Such the true life on't was.' 
It is a typographical error easily made : and the emen- 
dation deserves a place in the text. 

Johnson observes, that ' Iachinio's language is such 
as a skilful villain would natural'iy use; a mixture of 
airy triumph and serious deposition. His gayety shows 
his seriousness to be without anxiety, and his serious 
ness proves his gayety to be without art.' 



7 i. e. so near speech. A speaking picture is a com- 
mon figurative mode of expression. The meaning of the 
latter part of the sentence is : ' The sculptor was as na- 
ture dumb ; he gave every thing that nature gives but 
breath and motion. In breath is included speech.' 

S Steevens says, ' this tawdry image occurs in King 
Henry VIII.:— 

> their dwarfish pages were 

As cherubins all gilt.' 
By the very mention of cherubins his indignation is 
moved. ' The sole recommendation of this Gothic idea, 
(says he,) which is critically repeated by modern artists, 
seems to be, that it occupies but little room on canvass 
or marble ; for chubby unmeaning faces, with ducks' 
wings tucked under them, are all the circumstances 
that enter into such infantine and absurd representations 
of the choirs of heaven.' 

9 It is well known that the andirons of our ancestors 
were sometimes costly pieces of furniture; the standards 
were often, as in this'instance, of silver, and represent- 
ing some terminal figure or device ; the transverse or 
horizontal pieces, upon which the wood was supported, 
were what Shakspeare here calls the 4row<fc,properly 



5*20 



CYMBELINE. 



Act II. 



Post. This is her honour !-^ 
Let it be granted, you have seen all this (and praise 
Be given to your remembrance,) the description 
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves 
The wager you have laid. 

Inch. Then, if you can, 

[Pulling out the Bracelet. 
Be pale ; ' I beg but leave to air this jewel : See ! — 
And now 'tis up again : it must be married 
To that your diamond ; I'll keep them. 

Post. Jove ! — 

Once more let me behold it : Is it that 
Which I left with her ? 

lack. Sir (I thank her,) that : 

She stripp'd it from her arm ; I see her yet ; 
Her pretty action did outsell her gift, 
And yet enrich'd it too : She gave it me, and said, 
She priz'd it once. 

Post. May be, she pluck'd it off, 

To send it me. 

lach. She writes so to you ? doth she ? 

Post. 0, no, no, no; 'tis true. "Here, take this 
too; [Gives the Ring. 

It is a basilisk unto mine eve, 
Kills me to look on't: — Let there be no honour, 
Where there is beauty ; truth, where semblance ; 

love, 
Where there's another man: The vows of women 
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made, 
Than they are to their virtues : which is nothing : — 
O, above measure false ! 

Phi. Have patience, sir, 

And take your ring again ; 'tis not yet won : 
It may be probable, she lost it ; or, 
Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, 
Hath stolen it from her. 

Post. Very true ; 

And so, I hope, he came by't ;— Back my ring ; — 
Render to me some corporal sign about her, 
More evident than this ; for this was stolen. 

Iach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. 

Post. Hark you, he swears ; by Jupiter he swears. 
'Tis true ; — nay, keep the ring — 'tis true : I am 

sure, 
She would not lose it : her attendants are 
All sworn 2 and honourable : — They iuduc'd to 

steal it ! 
And by a stranger ?— No, he hath enjoy'd her. 
The cognisance 5 of her incontinency 
Is this, — she hath bought the name of whore thus 

dearly. — 
There, take thy hire : and all the fiends of hell 
Divide themselves between you ! 

Phi. Sir, be patient : 

This is not strong enough to be believ'd 
Of one persuaded well of 

Post. Never talk on't ; 

She hath been colted by him. 

Iach. If you seek 

For further satisfying, under her breast 
(Worthy the pressing,) lies a mole, right proud 
Of that most delicate lodging : By my lite, 
I kiss'd it : and it gave me present hunger 
To feed again, though full. You do remember 
This stain upon her? 



br andirons. Upon these the Cupids which formed the 
standards nicely depended, seemed to stand on one foot. 

1 The meaning seems to be, 'If you ever can be pale — 
he pale now w'uh jealousy. ' 

' Pale jealousy, child of insatiate love.' 
Not, as Johnson says, ' forbear to flush your cheek with 
rage.' Mr. Boawell's conjecture that it meant, 'If you 
can control your temper, if you can restrain yourself 
within bounds,' is surely inadmissible. 

3 It was anciently the 'custom for the servants of great 
families (as it is now for the servantsof the king) to take 
an oath of fidelity on their entrance into office. See 
Percy's Northumberland Household Book, p. 49. 

3 The badge, the token, the visible proof. So in King 
Henry IV. Part I.:— 

' As cognizance of my blooj-drinking hate.' 

4 i. e. avert his wrath from himself, prevent him from 
injuring himself in his rage. 



Post. Ay, and it doth confirm 
Another stain, as big as hell can hold, 
Were there no more but it. 

Jach. Will you hear more ? 

Post. Spare your arithmetic ; never count tho 
turns ; 
Once, and a million ! 

Iach. I'll be sworn, — 

Post. No swearing. 

If you will swear you have not done't, you lie ; 
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny 
Thou hast made me cuckold. 

Iach. I will deny nothing. 

Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb- 
meal ! 
I will go there, and do't ; i' the court ; before 
Her father : — I'll do something [Exit. 

Phi. Quite besides 

The government of patience ! — You have won : 
Let's follow him, and pervert 4 the present wrath 
He hath against himself. 

Iach. With all my heart. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. The same. Another Room in the 
same. Enter Posthumus. 
Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women 
Must be half-workers ? 5 We are bastards all ; 
And that most venerable man, which I 
Did call my father, was I know not where 
When I was stamp'd ; Soms coiner with his tools 
Made me a counterfeit: 6 Yet my mother seem'd 
The Dian of that time : so doth my wife 
The nonpareil of this. — O, vengeance, vengeance! 
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, 
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance : did it with 
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't 
Might well have warm'd old Saturn ; that I thought 

her 
As chaste as unsunn'd snow ; — O, all the devils !— 
This yellow Iachimo, in an hour, — was't not ? — 
Or less, — at first : Perchance he spoke not ; but, 
Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, 
Cry'd, oh ! and mounted : found no opposition 
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she 
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out 
The woman's part in me ! For there's no motion 
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 
It is the woman's part : Be it lying, note it, 
The woman's ; flattering, hers ; deceiving, hers ; 
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, 
Nice longings, slanders, mutability, 
All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows, 
Why, hers, in part, or all ; but, rather, all : 
For ev'n to vice 

They are not constant, but are changing still 
One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, 
Detest them, curse them : Yet 'lis greater skill 
In a true hate, to pray they have their will : 
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit, 



5 Milton was probably indebted to this speech for one 
of the sentiments which he has imputed to Adam, Par 
Lost, b. x.: — 

' O, why did God, 

Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven 
With spirits masculine, create at last 
This novelty on earth, this fair defect 
Of nature, and not fill the world at once 
With men, ais angels, without feminine, 
Orjind some other way to generate 
Mankind.'' 
See Rhodomonte's invective against women in the Or • 
lando Furioso ; and above all a~speech which Euripides 
has put into the mouth of Hippolytus, in the tragedy of 
that name. 

6 We have the same image in Measure for Measure: — 
' Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image 
In stamps that are forbid.' 

See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. Sect. 3. 

7 ' God could not lightly do a man more vengeance, 
than in this world to grant him his own foolish wishes r 

Sir T. More's Comfort against Tribulation 



Scene II. 



CYMBELINE. 



321 



ACT in. 

SCENE I. Britain. A Room of State in Cymbe- 
line's Palace. Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Clo- 
ten, and Lords, at one door ; and at another, 
Caius Lucius, and Attendants. 

Cynu Now say, what would Augustus Cassar 
with us ? 

Lmc. When Julius Caesar, (whose remembrance 
yet 
Lives in men's eyes ; and will to ears, and tongues, 
Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain, 
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle 
(.Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less 
Than in his feats deserving it,) for him, 
And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, 
Yearly three thousand pounds ; which by thee lately 
Is left untender'd. 

Queen. And, to kill the marvel, 

Shall be so ever. 

Cto. There be many Caesars, 

Ere such another Julius. Britain is 
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay, 
For wearing our own noses. 

Queen. That opportunity, 

Which then they had to take from us, to resume 
We have again.— Remember, sir, my liege, 
The kings your ancestors ; together with 
The natural bravery of your isle ; which stands 
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in 
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters ; 
With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats, 
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of con- 
quest 
Caesar made here ; but made not here his brag 
Of, came, and saw, and ooercame ; with shame, 
(The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried 
From off our coast, twice beaten ; and his shipping, 
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas, 
Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd 
As easily 'gainst our racks : for joy whereof, 
The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point, 
(O, giglot 1 fortune!) to master Caesar's sword, 
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, 
And Britons strut with courage. 

Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid : 
Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time ; 
and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars : 
other of them may have crook'd noses : but, to 
owe such straight arms, none. 

Cym. Son, let your mother end. 

Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as 
nard as Cassibelan; I do not say, I am one ; but 
I have a hand. — Why tribute? why should we pay 
tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a 
blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay 
him tribute for light ; else, sir, no more tribute, pray 
you now. 

Cym. You must know, 
Till the injurious Romans did extort 
This tribute from us, we were free : Caesar's ambi- 

v tion 
(Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch 
The sides o' the world,) against all colour, 2 here 
Did put the yoke upon us ; which to shake off, 



1 ' O, false and inconstant fortune !' A giglot was a 
strumpet. So in Measure for Measure: — 'Away with 
those giglols too.' And in Hamlet : — 

'Out, out, thou 8 trumpet fortune!* 
The poet has transferred to Cassibelan an adventure 
which -happened to his brother Nennius. See Holin- 
shed, book. iii. ch. xiii. ' The same historie also maketh 
mention of Nennius, brother to Cassibelane, who in fight 
happened to get Cassar's sword fastened in his shield, 
by a blow which Caesar stroke at him. But Nennius 
died, within 15 daies after the battel, of the hurt received 
at Caesar's hand ; although after he was hurt he slew 
Labienus, one of the Roman tribunes.' 

2 i. e. without any pretence of right. 

3 Some few hints for this part of the play are taken 
from Holinshed. 

4 i. e. at the extremity of defiance. So in Helyas 
Knight of the Swanne blk J. no date:— 'Here is my 

54 



Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon 
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Cicsur, 
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius, which 
Ordain'd our laws ; whose use the sword of Caesa." 
Hath too much mangled ; whose repair, and fran- 
chise, 
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, 
(Though Rome be therefore angry ;) Mulmutius 

made our laws, 
Who was the first of Britain, which did put 
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd 
Himself a king. 

Luc. I am sorry, Cymbeline, 

That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar 
(Caesar, that hath more kings his servants, than 
Thyself domestic officers,) thine enemy : 
Receive it from me, then : — War, and confusion, 
In Cresar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee : look 
For fury not to be resisted : — Thus defied, 
I thank thee for myself. 

Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. 

Thy Caesar knighted me ; my youth I spent 
Much under him ; 3 of him I gather'd honour ; 
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce, 
Behoves me keep at utterance ; 4 I am perfect,* 
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for 
Their liberties, are now in arms : a precedent 
Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold : 
So Cassar shall not find them. 

Luc. Let proof speak. 

Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make 
pastime with us a day, or two, longer: If you 
seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find 
us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of 
it, it is yours ; if you fall in the adventure, our 
crows shall fare the better for you ; and there's an 
end. 

Luc. So, sir. 

Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he 
mine: 
All the remain is, welcome. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Another Room in the same. Enter 

PlSANIO. 

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not 
What monster's her accuser? — Leonatus ! 
O, master! what a stranse infection 
Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian 
(As poisonous tongu'd, as handed,) hath prevail'd 
On thy too ready hearing? — Disloyal ? No : 
She's punish'd for her truth ; and undergoes, 
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults 
As would take in 6 some virtue. — O, my master 
Thy mind to her is now as low, as were 
Thy fortunes.' — How ! that I should murder her ? 
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I 
Have made to thy command ? — I, her ? — her blood ? 
If it be so to do good service, never 
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, 
That I should seem to lack humanity, 
So much as this fact comes to ? DoH : The letter 

[Reading. 
That I have sent her, by her own command 
Shall give thee opportunity ; 8 — O, damn'd paper ! 
Black as the ink that's on thee ! Senseless bauble,. 



gage to sustain it to the utterance, and befight it to the 
death.' 

5 Well informed. 

6 To take in is to conquer. So in Antony and Cleo- 
patra : — 

c cut the Ionian seas 

And take in Toryne.' 

7 Thy mind compared to hers is now as low as thy 
condition was compared to hers. According to modern 
notions of grammatical construction, it should be ' thy 
mind to hers.'' 

8 The words here read by Pisanio from his master's 
letter (as it is afterwards given in prose) are not found 
there, though the substance of them is contained in it. 
Malone thinks this a proof that Shakspearehad no view 
to the publication of his pieces— the inaccuracy would 
hardly be detected by the ear of the spectator, though it 
could hardly escape an attentive reader 



322 CYMBEL1NE. 

Art thou a feodary 1 for this act, and look'st 
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. 

Enter Imogen. 
I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 2 

Irno. How now, Pisanio 1 

Pis. Madam, here is a letter from mv lord. 

Into. Who ? thy lord ? that is my lord 1 Leonatus ? 
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer, 
That knew the stars, as I his characters ; 
He'd lay the future open. — You good gods, 
Let what is here contain'd relish of love, 
Of my lord's health, of his content, — yet not, 
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him,— 

iSome griefs are med'cinab-le ;) that is one of them, 
'or it doth physic love ; — of his content, 
All but in that ! — Good wax, thy leave : — Bless'd be, 
You bees, that make these locks of counsel ! Lovers, 
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike ; 
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet 
You clasp young Cupid's tables. — Good news, cods ! 

[Heads. 

Justice, anil w- father's wrath, should he take 
me in his doinu, m, could not be so cruel to me as 3 
you, O the dearest of creatures, would not even renew 
me with your eyes. Take no/ice, that I am in Cam- 
bria, at Milford- Haven. IVhat your own love will, 
out of thin, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all 
happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, 
increasing in love,* Leonatus Posthumi S. 

O, for a horse with wings ! — Hear'sl thou, Pisanio ? 
He is at Milford Haven : Read, and tell me 
How far 'tia thither. If one of mean affairs 
May plod it in a week, why may not I 
Glide thither in a day? — Then, true Pisanio, 
(Who Iong'st, like me, to see thy lord ; who Iong'st— 
O, let me 'bate, — but not "like me ; — yet Iong'st, — 
But in a fainter kind : — O, not like me ; 
For mine's beyond beyond 5 } say, and speak thick ; c 
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, 
To the smothering of the sense,] how far it is 
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way, 
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as 
To inherit such a haven: But, first of all, 
How we may steal from hence ; and, for the gap 
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going, 
And our return, to excuse :' — but first, how gel 

hence : 
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot! 8 
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak, 
How many score of miles may we well ride 
'Twixt hour and hour ? 



Act ID. 



Pis. One score, 'twixt sun and sun, 
Madam, 's enough for you ; and too much too. 

Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, 
Could never go so slow : I have heard of riding 

wagers, 9 
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 

That run i' the clock's behalf: 10 But this is 

foolery .*— 
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness , say 
She'll home to her father : and provide me, p»e- 

sently, 
A riding suit ; no costlier than would fit 
A franklin's" honsewife. 

Pis. Madam, you're best 12 consider. 

Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here, 
Nor what ensues ; but have a fog in them, 
That I cannot look through. 13 Away, I pr'ythee ; 
Do as I bid thee : There's no more to say ; 
Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Wales. A mountainous Country, 

with a Cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, 

and Arviragus. 

Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such 
Whose roof's as low as ours ! Stoop, boys : This 

gate 
Instructs you how to adore the heavens ; and bows 

you 
To a morning's holy office : The gates of monarcha 
Are arcli'd so high, that giants may jet'" through 
A in I keep tin ir impious turbans on, without 
Good morrow to the sun — Hail, thou fair heaven! 
\\ •■ house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
As prouder livers do. 

Gui. Hail, heaven ! 

Arv. Hail, heaven I 

Bel. Now, for our mountain sport : Up to yon hill, 
Your legs are young ; I'll tread these flats. Con- 
sider, 
When vou above perceive me like a crow, 
That it is place which lessens, and sets off". 
And you may then revolve what talcs I have toW 

you, 
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war ; 
This service is not service, so beinc done, 
But being so allow'd : 15 To apprehend t!ius r 
Draws us a profit from all things W( 
And often to our comf >rt, shall we find 
The sharded 16 beetle in a safer hold 
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life 
Is nobler, than attending for a check ; 
Richer, than doing nothing for a brabe ;" 



1 i. e. o, subordinate agent, as a vassal to his chief. 
A feodary, however, meant also 'a prime agent, or 
steward, who received aids, reliefs, suits of service, &c. 
due -to any lord.' — Glossographia Jlnglieana Nova, 
1719. let after all, it may be doubted whether Shak- 
speare does not use it to signify a confederate or accom- 
plice, as he does federary in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. 
Sc.l:— 

' Mote, she's a traitor, and Camillo is 
A federary with her.' 

2 i. e. I am unpractised in the arts of murder. So in 
King Henry IV. Parti. :— 

' O, I am ignorance itself in this.' 

3 ^s is here used for that. See Julius Ctesar. Art i. 
Sc. 2. The word not in the next line, beinsr accidentally 
omitted in the old ropy, was supplied by Malone. 

4 We should now write ' yours, increasing in love,' 
Your is to be joined in construction with Leo7iatus 
Posthumous, and not with increasing} the latter is a 
participle present, and not a noun. 

b i. e. her longing is further than beyond ; beyond 
any thing that desire can be said to be beyond. 

6 i.e. ' speak quick.'' 

7 That is 'in consequence of our going hence and 
returning back.' So in Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 1 : — 

' He cannbt temperately support his honours 
From where he should begin and end.' 

8 i. e. In fore the act is done for which excuse will 
be necessary. 

9 This practice was, periiaps, not much 'ess preva- 
lent >n ShaKspeaje's time than it is at present. Fynes 
Wcryson, speaking of his brother's putting out money [ 



to lie paiJ with interest on his return from Jerusalem 

(or, as we should now speak, travelling thither//; a 
. | defends it OS an honest means of gaining the 

Charges of his journey, especially when ' no meant 
ind lords' sonnes, arid gentlemen in our court, 
I money upon a horse-race under themselves, 

ye.i, upon a journey afoote.' 

10 It may be necessary to apprize the reader that the 
sand of an hour-glass used to measure time is meant. 
The figurative meaning is, swifter than the flight of time. 

11 A franklin is a yeoman. 

12 That is ! you'd best consider.' 

13 'I see neither on this side nor on that, nor behind 
me; but find a fog in each of those quarters that my 
eye cannot pierce. The way to .Milford is alone clear 
and open: Let us therefore instantly set forward.' By 
' what ensues,' Imogen means what will be the conse- 
quence of the step I am going to take. 

14 Sfrut, walk proudly. So in Twelfth Night, ' How 
he jets under his advanced plumes.' The idea of a 
giant was, among the readers of romances, who were 
almost all the readers oi those times, always confounded 
with that of a Saracen 

15 'In any service done, the advantage rises not from 
the act, but from the allowance '). e. approval) of it.' 

16 i. e. scaly-winged beetle. See Antony and Cleo- 
patra, Art iii. Sc. 2. The epithet full-winged, applied 
to i lie eagle, sufficiently marks the contrast oi the poet's 
imagery: for whilst the bird ran soar beyond the reach 
of human eye, the insrrt ran but just rise above the 
surface of the earth, and that at the close of day. 

IT The old copy reads babe; the uncommon word 
brabe not being familiar to the compositor. A brabe is 
a ronieinptuoiis or proud look, word, or gesture ; qua&i, 
a brace. 



Scene IV. 



CYMBELINE, 



323 



Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk: 
Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine, 
Yet keens his book uncross'd ; no life to ours. 1 
Gvi. Out of your proof you speak : we, poor 
unfledg'd, 
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest ; nor know 

not 
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, 
If quiet life be best ; sweeter to you, 
That have a sharper known: well corresponding 
With your stiff age ; but, unto us, it is 
A cell of ignorance ; travelling a-bed ; 
A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
To stride a limit. 2 

Arv. What should we speak of, 3 

When we are old as you ? when we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how, 
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
The freezing hours away ? We have seen nothing : 
We are beastly ; subtle as the fox, for prey ; 
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat : 
Our valour is, to chase what flies ; our cage 
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, 
And sing our bondage freely. 

BeL How you speak! 4 

Did you but know the city's usuries, 
And felt them knowingly : the art o' the court, 
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb 
Is certain falling, or so slipperv, that 
The fear's as bad as falling : the toil of the war, 
A pain than only seems to seek out danger 
V the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the 

search ; 
And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, 
As record of fair act ; nay, many times, 
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, 
Must court'sy at the censure : — 0, boys, this story 
The world may read in me : My body's mark'd 
With Roman swords ; and my report was once 
First with the best of note : Cymbeline lov'd me ; 
And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree, 
Whose boughs did bend with fruit : but in one 

night, 
A storm, or robbery, call it What you will, 
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, 
And left me bare to weather. 5 

Gui. Uncertain favour ! 

Bel. My fault being nothing, (as I have tcld 

you oft,) 
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd 
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, 
I was confederate with the Romans : so, 
Follow'd my banishment ; and, this twenty years, 
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my 

world : 
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom ; paid 
More pious debts to heaven, than in all 
The fore-end of my time. — But, up to the mountains; 
This is not hunters' language : — He, that strikes 
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast ; 
To him the other two shall minister ; 
And we will fear no poison, which attends 

1 i. e. compared to ours. 

2 To stride a limit is to overpass his bound. 

3 'This dread of an old age unsupplied with matter 
for discourse and meditation, is a sentiment natural and 
.noble. No state can be more .destitute than that of him, 
■who, when the delights of sense forsake him, has no 
pleasures of the mind.' — Johnson. 

4 Otway seems to have taken many hints for the con- 
versation which passes between Acasto and his sons 
from the scene before us. 

5 Thus in Timon of Athens : — 

' That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oak, have witli one winter's brush 
Fallen from their boughs, and left me, open, care, 
For every storm that blows.' 

€ ' nulla aconita, bibuntur 

Kictilibus; tunc ilia time, cum pocula sumes 
GerniTiata, et lato Setinum ardebit in auro.' 

Juv. 
7 ' Shakspeare seems to intend Belarius for a good 
character, yet he makes him forget the injury which he 



In place of greater state. 6 I'll meet you in the 
valleys. [Exeunt Gui. and Art. 

How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature ! 
These boys know little, they are sons to the king ; 
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up 

thus meanly 
I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 
The roofs of palaces ; and nature prompts them, 
In simple and low things, to prince it, much 
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, 
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
The king his father call'd Guiderius, — Jove ! 
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and teil 
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
Into my story : say, — Thus mine enemy fell; 
And thus I set my foot on his neck ; even then 
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, 
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture 
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, 
(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure, 
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more 
His own conceiving. Hark ! the game is rous'd ! — 
O, Cymbeline ! heaven, and my conscience, knows, 
Thou didst unjustly banish me : whereon, 
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes ;' 
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as 
Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, 
Thou wast their nurse ; they took thee for their 

mother, 
And every day do honour to her grave : 3 
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, 
They take for natural father. The game is up. 

[Exit. 

SCENE IV. Near Milford Haven. Enter Pisa- 
nio and Imogen. 

Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, 

the place 
Was near at hand : Ne'er long'd my mother so 
To see me first, as I have now : — Pisanio ! Man ' 
Where is Posthumus ? 9 What is in thy mind, 
That makes thee stare thus ? Wherefore breaks that 

sigh 
From the inward of thee ? One, but painted thus, 
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd 
Beyond self-explication : Put thyself 
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness 
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter ? 
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with 
A look untender ? If it be summer news, 
Smile to't before : if winterly, thou need'st 
But keep that countenance still. — My husband's 

hand ! 
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, 
And he's at some hard point. — Speak, man ; thy 

tongue 
May take off some extremity, which to read 
Would be even mortal to me. 

Pis. Please you, read ; 

And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing 
The most disdain'd of fortune. 

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath playe 
the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies where/ He 
bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; 



has done to the young princes, whom he has robbed ol 
a kingdom, only to rob their father of heirs. Tlie letter 
part of this soliloquy is very inartificial, there being no 
particular reason why Belarius should now Cell to him 
self what he could not know better by telling it.' — John 
son. 

9 i. e. to the grave of Euriphile ; or to the grave of 
' their mother,' as they supposed it to be. The grammati 
cal construction requires that the poet should have writ 
ten ' to thy grave ;' .but we have frequent instances ot 
this changs of persms, not only in Shakspeare, but in. 
all the writings of his age. 

9 The true pronunciation of Greek and La'.in names- 
was not much regarded by the wri'.ers of Shavcspeare's 
age. The poet has, however, differed "rova himself, 
and given the true pronunciation when the name first 
occurs, and in one other place : — 

' To his protection ; call him Posthumus.' 
' Struck, the maintop ! O, Posthumus !■ ajas, » 



324 



CTMBELINE. 



Act m. 



from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I 
expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must 
act for me, if thy faitli be not tainted with the breach 
of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life : 
I shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven : 
she hath my letter for the purpose ; Where, if thou 
fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou 
art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me 
disloyal. 

Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the 
paper 
Hath cut her throat already. — No, 'tis slander ; 
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose 

tongue 
Outvenoms all the worms' of Nile ; whose breath 
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, 2 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
This viperous slander enters. — What cheer, madam? 

Jmo. False to his bed! What is it, to be false ? 
To lie in watch there, and to think on him? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock I if sleep charge 

nature, 
To break it with a fearful dream of him, 
And cry myself awake ? that's false to his bed? 
Is it ? 

Pis. Alas, good lady I 

Imo. I false ? Thy conscience witness : — Iachimo, 
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency ; 
Thou then look'dst like a villain ; now, methinks, 
Thy favour's good enough. — Some jay of Italy, 
Whose mother was her painting, 3 hath betray'd 

him : 
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion ; 
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, 4 
I must be ripp'd : — to pieces with me ! — O, 
Men's vows are women's traitors ! All good seeming, 
By thy revolt, O, husband, shall bo thought 
Put on for villany ; not born, where't grows ; 
But worn, a bait for ladies. 

Pis. Good madam, hear me. 

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false 

^Eneas, 

Were, in his time, thought false : and Sinon's 

weeping 
Did scandal many a holy tear : took pity 
From most true wretchedness : So, thou, Post- 
humus, 
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men ;• 
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd, 
From thy great fail. — Come, fellow, be thou honest: 
Do thou thy master's bidding : when thou seest 
him, 



1 It has already been observed that worm was the 
general name for all the serpent kind. See Antony and 
Cleopatra, Act v. 8c. 2 

2 i. e. persons of the highest rank. 

3 Putta, in Italian, signifies both a jay and a whore. 
We have the word again in The Merry Wives of Wind- 
sor :- ' Teach him to know turth-s from jays.' Some 
jay of Italy, whose mot/ur was her painting, i. e. made 
by art ; the creature not of nature, but of painting. In 
this sense painting may be said to be her mother. Stee- 
vens met with a similar phrase in some old play : — ' A 
parcel of conceited feather-caps, whose fathers were 
their garments.'' 

4 That is, to be hung up as useless among the neglect- 
ed contents of a wardrobe. So in Measure for Mea- 
sure : — 

' That have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall.' 
Clothes were not formerly, as at present, made of slight 
materials, were not kept jn drawers, or given away as 
soon as lapse of time or change ol fashion had impaired 
their value. On the contrary, they were hung up on 
wooden pegs, in a room appropriated to the sole purpose 
of receiving them ; and though such cast off things as 
were composed of rich substances were occasionally 
ripped for domestic uses, articles of inferior quality were 
suffered to hang by the walls till age and moths had 
destroyed what pride would not permit to be worn by 
servants or poor relations : — 

' Comitem horridulum trita donare lacerna,' 
seems not to have been customarv among our ancestors. 
When Queen Elizabeth died, she" was found to have left 



A little witness my obedience : Look! 
I draw the sword myself: take it ; and hit 
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart : 
Fear not : 'tis empty of all things, but grief; 
Thy master is not there ; who was, indeed, 
The riches of it ; Do his bidding ; strike. 
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause ; 
But now thou sesm'st a coward. 

Pis. Hence, vile instrument ? 

Thou shalt not damn my hand. 

Imo. Why, I must die; 

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art 
No servant of thy master's : Against self-slaughter 
There is a prohibition so divine, 
That cravens my weak hand. s Come, here's my 

heart ; 
Something's afore't : Soft, soft ; we'll no defence ; 
Obedient as the scabbard. — What is here ? 
The scriptures' of the loyal Leonatus, 
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, 
Corrupters of my faith ! you shall no more 
Be stomachers to my heart J Thus may poor fools 
Believe false teachers : Though those that are be- 
tray'd 
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
Stands in worse case of wo. 
And thou, Posthumus, thon that didst set up 
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father, 
And make me put into contempt the suits 
Of princely fellows, 8 shalt hereafter find 
It is no act of common passage, but 
A strain of rareness : and I grieve myself, 
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her 
That now thou tir'st-' on, how thy memory 
Will then be pang'd by me. — Pr'ythee, despatch: 
The lamb entreats the butcher : Where's thy knife? 
Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, 
When I desire it too. 

Pis. O, gracious lady, 

Since I receiv'd command to do this business, 
I have not slept one wink. 

Imo. Do't, and to bed then. 

I'is. I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first. 10 

Imo. Wherefore then 

Didst undertake it ? Why hast thou abus'd 
So many miles with a pretence ? this place ? 
Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour? 
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, 
For my being abserM ; whereunto I never 
Purpose return ? Why hast thou gone so far, 
To be unbent," when thou hast ta'en thy stand, 
The elected deer before thee ? 



above three thousand dresses behind her. Steevens 
once saw one of these repositories at an ancient mansion 
in Suffolk, which (thanks to a succession of old maids !) 
had been preserved with superstitious reverence for al- 
most a century and a hal£ 

5 ' Wilt lay the legmen on all proper men.' 

The leaven is, in Scripture phraseology, ' the whola 
wickedness of our sinful nature.' See 1 Corinthians, v. 
6, 7, 8. ' Thy failure, Posthumus, will lay falsehood 
to the charge of men without guile : make all suspected.' 

6 ' That makes me afraid to put an end to my own 
life.' Hamlet exclaims : — 

' O, that the everlasting had not fix'tf 
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.' 

7 Shakspeare here means Leoi.atus's letters, but there 
is an opposition intended between scripture, in its com- 
mon signification, and heresy. 

8 Fellows for equals; those of the same princely rant 
with myself. 

9 ' when thou shalt be disedg'd by her 

That now thou tir'st on.' 

It is probable that the first, as well as the last, of these 
metaphorical expressions is from falconry. A bird of 
prey may be said to be disedged when the keenness of 
its appetite is taken away by tiring, or feeding, upon 
some object given to it for that purpose Thus in Ham- 
let:— 

' Oph. You are keen, my lord, you fire keen. 

Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off mine 
edge.' 

10 Blind, which is not in the old copy, was supplied 
by Hanmer. 

11 To have thy bow unbent, alluding to a hunter So 




t*"i '■»:>»/' 









SCEUE V. 



CYMBELINE 



325 



Pis. But to win time 
To close so bad employment : in the which 
I have consider'd of a course ; Good lady, 
Hear me with patience. 

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary ; speak : 

I have heard, I am a strumpet : and mine ear, 
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, 
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. 

Pis. Then, madam, 

I thought you would not back again. 

Imo. Most like; 

Bringing me here to kill me. 

Pis, Not so, neither: 

But if I were as wise as honest, then 
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be, 
But that, my master is abus'd : 
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art 
Hath done you both this cursed injury. 

Imo. Some Roman courtezan. 

Pis. No, on my life 

I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him 
Some bloody sign of it ; for 'tis commanded 
I should do so : You shall be miss'd at court ; 
And that will well confirm it. 

Imo. Why, good fellow, 

What shall Y do the while ? Where bide ? How live ? 
Or in my life what comfort, when I am 
Dead to my husband ? 

Pis. If you'll back to the court, 

Imo. No court, no father ; nor no more ado 
With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing:' 
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me 
As fearful as a siege. 

Pis. If not at court, 

Then not in Britain must you bide. 

Imo. Where then ? 

Hath Britain all the sun that shines? 2 Day, night, 
Are they not but in Britain '/ I' the world's volume 
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it ; 
In a great pool, a swan's nest ; Pr'ythee, think 
There's livers out of Britain. 

Pis. I am most glad 

You think of other place. The embassador 
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven 
To-morrow : Now, if you could wear a mind 
Dark as your fortune is ; s and but disguise 
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be, 
But by self-danger ; you should tread a course 
Pretty, and full of view : 4 yea, haply, near 
The residence of Posthumus : so nigh, at least. 
That though his actions were not visible, yet 
Report should render him hourly to your ear, 
As truly as he moves. 

Imo. O, for such means ! 

Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, 
S would adventure. 



in one of Shakspeare's poems in The Passionate Pil- 
grim, 1599 : — 

'When as thine eye hath chose the dame 
Jind statt'd the deer thai thou shouldst strike. 
\ This line requires some word of two syllables to 
complete the measure. Steevens proposed to read ; — 
'With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing, Cloten; 
That Cloten,' &c. 

2 The poet may have had in his muid a passage in 
Lyly's Euphues, which he has imitated in King Richard 
II. 

3 To wear a dark mind is to carry a mind impene- 
trable to the search of others. Darkness, applied to the 
mind, is secrecy ; applied to the fortune, is obscurity. 
The next lines are obscure. ' You must (says Pisanio) 
disguise that greatness which, to appear hereafter in its 
proper form, cannet yet appear without great danger 
to itself.' 

4 Futi of view appears to mean of ample prospect, 
affording a complete view of circumstances which it is 
your interest to know. Thus in Pericles, ' Full of face' 
appears to signify ' amply beautiful :' and Duncan as- 
sures Banquo that he will labour to make him 'full of 
growing,' i. e. of ' ample growth, ' 

5 So in King Henry IV. Part I 

' A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 

As you are tossM with. 
This character of the iceasel is not mentioned by natu 
ealists Weasels were formerly, il appears, kept in 



Pis. Well, then, here's the point : 
You must forget to be a woman ; change 
Command into obedience; fear and niceness, 
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, 
Woman its pretty self,) into a waggish courage ; 
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and 
As quarrellous as the weasel : 5 nay, you must 
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, 
Exposing it, (but, O, the harder heart! 
Alack no remedy \ ) to the greedy touch 
Of common-kissing Titan ! B and forget 
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
You made great Juno angry. 

Imo. Nay, be brief: 

I see into thy end, and am almost 
A man already. 

Pis. First, make yourself but like one, 

Fore-thinking this, I have already fit 
(Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all 
That answer to them : Would you, in their serving, 
And with what imitation you can borrow 
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius 
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him 
Wherein you are happy,' (which you'll make him 

know, 
If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless, 
With joy he will embrace you ; for he's honourable, 
And, doubting that, most holy. Your means abroad 
You have me, 8 rich ; and I will never fail 
Beginning, nor supplyment. 

fmo. ' Thou art all the comfort 

The gods will diet me with. 9 Pr'ythee, away : 
There's more to be consider'd ; but we'll even 10 
All that good time will give us: This attempt 
I am soldier to, 1 ' and will abide it with 
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. 

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell ' 
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of 
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, 
Here is a box ; I had it from the queen 
What's ki't is precious ; if you are sick at sea, 
Or stornach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this 
Will drive away distemper. — To some shade, 
And fit you to your manhood: — May the gods 
Direct you to the best! 

Imo. Amen: I thank thee. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE V. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.— 

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, 

and Lords. 

Cym. Thus far; and so farewell. 

E.uc Thanks, royal sir. 

My emperor hath wrote ; I must from hence ; 
And am right sorry, that I must report ye 
My master's enemy. 



houses instead of cats, for the purpose of killing vermin. 
Pha?drus notices this their feline office in the first and 
fourth fables of bis fourth book. The poet, no doubt, 
speaks from observation ; while a youth he would have 
frequent opportunities to ascertain their disposition. 
Perhaps this note requires the apology which Steevens 
has affixed to it: — 'Rrivola ha?c fortassis cuipiam et 
nimis levia esse videantur sed curiositas nihil recusat.' — 
Vopiscus in Vita Jlureliani, c z. 

6 Thus in Othello :— 

' The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets.' 
So in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii. 'And beautifnl might 
have been if they had not suffered greedy Phcsbus over 
often and hard to kisse them.' 

7 L e. wherein you are accomplished. 

9 'As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on 
me. 1 

9 Sieevens has a note on this passage no less disgust 
ing than absurd, making the pure Imogen allude to the 
spare regimen prescribed in some diseases. The in- 
terpretation was at once gross and erroneous. When 
Iago talks of dieting his revenge, he certainly does not 
mean putting k on a spare diet. This, and a note on a 
former passage of this play by Mr. Whalley, which 
could only have been the offspring of impure imagina- 
tions, were justly stigmatized and degraded by the late 
Mr. Boswell, at the suggestion of Mr. Douce. 

10 We'll make our work even with our time; we'll 
do what time will allow. 

Hie equal to, or have ability for k. 



326 



CYMBELINE. 



Act IIL 



Cym. Our subjects, sir, 
Will not endure his yoke : and for ourself 
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs 
Appear unkinglike. 

Jjuc. So, sir, I desire of you 

A conduct over land, to Milford Haven. — 
Madam, all joy befall your grace, and you P 

Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office : 
The due of honour in no point omit : — 
So, farewell, noble Lucius. 

J MC . Your hand, my lord. 

Clo. Receive it friendly : but from this time forth 
I wear it as your enemy. 

Luc. Sir, the event 

Is yet to name the winner ; Fare you well. 

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my 
lords, 
Till he have cross'd the Severn. — Happiness ! 

[Exeunt Lucius, and Lords. 
Queen. He soes hence frowning: but it honours us, 
That we have given him cause. 

Clo. Tis all the better j 

Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. 

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor 
How it goes here. It fits us, therefore, ripely, 
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness : 
The powers that he already hath in Gallia 
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves 
His war for Britain. 

Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business ; 

But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly. 

Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus, 
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, 
Where is our daughter ? She hath not appear'd 
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tcnder'd 
The duty of the day : She looks us like 
A thing more made of malice, than of duty : 
We have noted it. — Call her before us ; for 
We have been too slight in sufferance. 

[Exit an Attendant. 
Queen. Royal sir, 

Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd 
Hath her life been ; the cure whereof, my lord, 
'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, 
Forbear sharp speeches to her : she's a lady 
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, 
And strokes death to her. 

Re-enter an Attendant. 
Cym. Where is she, sir ? How 

Can her contempt be answer'd ? 

Alien. Please you, sir, 

Her chambers are all look'd ; and there's no answer 
That will be given to loud'st of noise we make. 

Quecit. My lord, when last I went to visit her, 
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close ; 
Whereto con'strain'd by her infirmity, 
She should that duty leave unpaid to you, 
Which daily she was bound to proffer : this 
She wish'd me to make known ; but our great court 
Made me to blame in memory. 

Cym. Her doors lock'd ? 

Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I 
Fear 2 prove false ! , [Exit. 

Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. 

Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, 
I have not seen these two days. 

Queen. Go, look after. — 

[Exit Cloten. 
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus ! — 
He hath a drug of mine : I pray, his absence 
Proceed by swallowing that ; for he believes 
It is a thing most precious. But for her, 
Where is she gone ? Haply, despair hath seized her ; 



Or, wing'a (vith fervour of her love, she s flown 
To her desir'd Posthumus : Gone she is 
To death, or to dishonour ; and my end 
Can make good use of either : She being down, 
I have the placing of the British crown. 
Re-enter Cloten. 

How now, my son ? 

Clo. 'Tis certain, she is fled j 

Go in, and cheer the king ; he rages ; none 
Dare come about him. 

Queen. All the better ; May 

This night forestall him of the coming day ! 3 

[Exit Queer 
Clo. I love and hate her ; for she's lair and royal ; 
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite 
Than lady, ladies, woman ; 4 from every one 
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, 
Outsells them all : I love her therefore - T But, 
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on 
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment, 
That what's else rare, ischok'd ; and, in that point, 
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, 
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools 

Enter Pisanio. 
Shall — Who is here? What! are you packing, 

sirrah ? 
Come hither: Ah, you precious pander ! Villain, 
Where is thy lady ? In a word ; or else 
Thou art straightway with the fiends. 

Pi's. O, good my lord !. 

Clo. Where is thy lady ? or % by Jupiter 
I will not ask again. Close villain, 
I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip 
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus ? 
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot 
A dram of worth be drawn. 

Pis. Alas, my lord, 

How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?' 
He is in Rome. 

Clo. Where is she, sir ? Come nearer ; 

No farther halting : satisfy me home, 
What is become of her? 

Pi's. O, my all-worthy lord I 
Clo. All-worthy villain ! 

Discover where thy mistress is, at once, 
At the next word, — No more of worthy lord, — 
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is 
Thy condemnation and thy death. 

Pi's. Then, sir, 

This paper is the history of my knowledge 
Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter*. 

Clo. Let's see't : — I will pursue hep 

Even to Augustus' throne. 

Pi's. Or this, or perish. 5 > 

She's far enough; and what he learns by this, > Aside. 
May prove his travel, not her danger. ) 

do. Humph ! 

Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O, Imogen, 
Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again ! 

[Aside. 
Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? 
Pis. Sir, as I think. 

Clo. It is Posthumus' hand ; I know't, — Sirrah, 
if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true 
service ; undergo those employments, wherein 1 
should have cause to usa thee, with a serious indus- 
try, — that is, what villany soever P bid 1 thee do, to 
perform it directly and truly, — I would think thee 
an honest man : thou shouldest neither want my 
means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. 
Pis. Well, my good lord. 

Clo, Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently 
and constantly thou hast stack to the bare fortuna 



1 We should apparently read 'Ai's grace and you,' 
or ' your grace and yours.'' 

■2 jfear must be pronounced as a dissyllable to com- 
plete the measure. 

3 i. e. may his grief this night prevent him from ever 
seeing another day, by anticipated and premature de- 
struction. Thus in Milton's Comus : — 

' Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.' 



4 Than any lady, than all ladies, than all woman- 
kind. There is a' similar passage in All's Well that 
Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 3:— 

' To any count ; to all counts ; to what is man.' 

5 By these words it is probable Pisanio means ' I 
must either practise this deceit upon Cloten or perish 
by his fury.' Dr. Johnson thought the words shouts! t* 

iven to Cloten, 



Scene VI. 



CYMBELINE. 



327 



of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the 
course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of 
mine. Wilt thou serve me? 

Pis. Sir, I will. 

Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast 
any of thy late master's garments in thy possession ? 

Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same 
suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and 
mistress. 

Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that 
suit hither .; let it be thy first service ; go. 

Pis. I shall, my lord. [Exit. 

Clo. Meet thee at Milfc-rd Haven : — I forgot to 
ask him one thing ; I'll remember't anon : — Even 
there, thou villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee. — I 
>vould these garments were come. She said upon 
a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my 
heart,) that she held the very garment of Posthu- 
mus iu more respect than my noble and natural 
person, together with the adornment of my qualities. 
With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her : 
First kill him, and in her eyes ; there shall she see 
rey valour, which will then be a torment to her con- 
tempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment 
ended on his dead body, — and when my lust hath 
dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute 
in the clothes that she so praised,) to the court I'll 
knock her back, foot her home again. She hath 
despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my re- 
venge. 

Re-enter Pisanio, with the Clothes. 
Be those the garments ? 

Pis. Ay, nay noble lord. 

Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford 
Haven ? 

Pis. She can scarce be there yet. 

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber ; that is 
the second thing that I have commanded thee: the 
third is, that thou sbalt be a voluntary mute tomy 
design. Be but duteous, and true preferment, shall 
tender itself to thee. — My revenge is now at Mil- 
ford ; 'Would, I had wings to follow it ! — Come, 
and be true. [JExit. 

Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss : for, true to thee, 
Were to prove false, which I will never be, 
To him that is most true. 1 — To Milford go, 
And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow, 
You heavenly blessings, on her I This fool's speed 
Be cross'd with slowness ; labour be his meed ! 

[Exit. 
SCENE VI. Before the Cave of Belarius. Enter 
Imogen, in Boy's Clothes. 

Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one: 
I have tir'cl myself; and for two nights together 
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, 
But that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, 
Thou wast within a ken : O, Jove ! I think, 
Foundations fly the wretched: 1 such, I mean, 
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told 

me, 
I could not miss my way : Will poor folks lie, 
That have afflictions on them ; knowing 'tis 
A punishment, or trial ? Yes ; no wonder, 
When rich ones scarce tell true : To lapse in fulness 
Is sorer, 5 than to lie for need ; and falsehood 



1 Pisanio, notwithstanding his master's letter com- 
manding the murder of Imogen, considers him as true, 
supposing, as he has already said to her, that Posthu- 
mus was abused by some villain equally an enemy to 
.hem both. 

2 Thus in the fifth jEneid :— 

'Italiam sequimur fugientem.'' 

3 i. e. is a greater or heavier crime. 

4 Civil is here civilized, as opposed to savage, wild, 
tide, or uncultivated. ' If any one dwell here.'' 

5 A woodtaan in its common acceptation, as here, 
signifies a hunter. So in The Rape of Lucrece : — 

' He is no woodman that doth bend his bow 
Against a poor unseasonable doe.' 

6 i. e our compact. 

7 Uestie, which Steevens unwarrantably changed to 



Is worse in kings, than beggars. — My dear lord ! 
Thou art one o' the false ones : Now I think on thee 
My hunger's gone ; but even before, I was 
At point to sink for food. — But what is this ? 
Here is a path to it : 'Tis some savage hold : 
I were best not call ; I dare not call ; yet famine, 
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. 
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards ; hardness ever 
Of hardiness is mother. — Ho ! who's here? 
If any thing that's civil, 4 speak ; if savage, 
Take, or lend. — Ho ! — No answer ? then I'll enter. 
Best draw my sword ; and if mine enemy 
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. 
Such a foe, good heavens ! [She goes into the Cave. 
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. 

Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best wood- 
man, 4 and 
Are master of the feast : Cadwal, and I, 
Will play the cook and servant ; 'tis our match. 
The sweat of industry would dry, and die, 
But for the end it works to. Come ; our stomachs 
Will make what's homely, savoury : Weariness 
Can snore upon the flint, when restie* sloth 
Finds the down pillow hard. — Now, peace be here, 
Poor house, that keep'st thyself! 

Gui. I am thoroughly weary. 

Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. 
Gui. There is cold meat i' the cave ; we'll browze 
on that, 
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. 
BeL Stay ; come not in : 

[Looking in. 
But that it eats our victuals, I should think 
Here were a fairy. 

Gui. What's the matter, sir? 

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel ! or, if not, 
An earthly paragon ! — Behold divineness 
No elder than a boy < 

Enter Imogen. 
Imo. Good masters, harm me not : 
Before I enter'd here, I call'd : and thought 
To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good 

troth, 
I have stolen nought ; nor would not, though I had 

found 
Gold strew'd i' the floor. 8 Here's money for my 

meat : 
I would have left it on the board, so soon 
As I had made my meal ; and parted 
With prayers for the provider. 

Gui. Money, youth? 

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt 
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those 
Who worship dirty gods. 

Imo. I see, you are angry : 

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should 
Have died, had I not made it. 
Bel. Whither bound ? 

Imo. To Milford Haven. 

Bel. What is your name ? 

Imo. Fidele, sir : I have a kinsman, who 
Is bound for Italy ; he embark'd at Milford ; 
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, 
I am fallen in 9 this offence. 

Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth, 

Think us no churls ; nor measure our good minds 
By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'dT 



restfpe, signifies here dull, heavy, as it is explained in 
Bullokar's Expositor, 1616. So Milton uses it in his 
Eicnnoclastes, sec. 24, ' The master is too res///, or too 
rich, to say his own prayers, or to bless his own table.' 
What between Malone's ' resty, rank, mouldy, ' and 
Steevens's 'restive, stubborn, refractory,'' the reader 
is misled and the passage left unexplained ; or what is 
worse, explained erroneously in all the variorum edi- 
tions. 

8 Hanmer altered this to 'o' the floor,' but imneces. 
sarily — in was frequently used for on in Shakspeare'o 
time, as in the Lord's Prayer, 'Thy will be done in 
earth.' 

9 In for into, as in Othello :— 

' Fallen in the practice of a cursed slave ' 



28 



CYMBELINE. 



Act IT. 



'Tis almost night : you shall have better cheer 
Ere you depart ; and thanks, to stay and eat it. — 
Boys, bid him welcome. 

Gui. Were you a woman, youth, 

I should woo hard, but be your groom. — In honesty, 
I bid for you, as I'd buy. 

Arv. I'll make't my comfort, 

He is a man ; I'll love him as my brother : — 
And such a welcome as I'd give to him, 
After long absence, such is yours: — Most welcome ! 
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. 

Imo. 'Mongst friends, 

If brothers ! — 'Would, it had been so, 

that they 
Had been my father's sons ! then had my I j^ 

prize 1 
Been less ; and so more equal ballasting 
To thee, Posthumus. 

Bel. He wrings 2 at some distress. 

Gui. 'Would, I could free't ! 

Arv. Or I ; whate'er it be, 

What pain it cost, what danger ! Gods ! 

Bel. Hark, boys. 

[Whispering. 

Imo. Great men, 
That had a court no bigger than this cave, 
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue 
Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by 
That nothing gift of differing 3 multitudes,) 
Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods ! 
I'd change my sex to be companion with them, 
Since Leonatus false.* 

Bel. It shall be so : 

Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. — Fair youth, come in : 
Discourse is heavy, fasting ; when we have supp'd, 
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, 
So far as thou wilt speak it. 

Gui. Pray draw near. 

Arv. The night to the owl, the morn to the lark, 
less welcome. 

Imo. Thanks, sir. 

Arv. I pray, draw near. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VII. Rome. Enter Two Senators and 
Tribunes. 

1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ ; 
That since the common men are now in action 
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians ; 

And that the legions now in Gallia are 
Full weak to undertake our wars against 
The fallen off Britons ; that we do incite 
The gentry to this business : He creates 
Lucius pro-consul : and to you, the tribunes, 
For this immediate levy, he commands 
His absolute commission. 5 Long live Caesar! 
Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces? 

2 Sen. Ay. 
Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? 

1 Sen. With those legions 

Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 
Must be supplyant: The words of your commission 
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time 
Of their despatch. 

Tri. We will discharge our duty. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. The Forest, near the Cave. Enter 
Cloten. 

Clo. I am near to the place where they should 
meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit 
his garments serve me ! Why should his mistress, 
who was made by him that made the tailor, not bo 
fit too? the rather, (saving reverence of the word,) 
for 6 'tis said, a woman s fitness conies by fits. 
Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak 
it to myself, (for it is not vain-glory for a man and 
his glass to confer; m his own chamber, I mean,) 
the lines of my body are as well drawn as his ; no 
less young, more strong, not beneath him in for- 
tunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, 
above him in birth, alike conversant in general ser- 
vices, and more remarkable in single oppositions : T 
yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despite. 
What mortality is ! Posthumus, thy head, which 
now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within 
this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy gar- 
ments cut to pieces before thy face : 8 and all this 
done, spurn her home to her father : who may, 
haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage : but 
my mother, having power of his tt-stincss, shall turn 
all into my commendations. My horse is tied up 
safe : Out, sword, and to a sore purpose I Fortune, 
put them into my hand ! This is the very descrip- 
tion of their meeting-place : and the fellow dares 
not deceive me. [Exit. 

SCENE II. Before the Cave. Enter, from the 

Cave, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and 

Imogen. 

Bel. You are not well : [To Imogen.] remain 
here in the cave : 
We'll come to you after hunting. 

Arv. Brother, stay here : 

[To Imogen. 
Are wc not brothers ? 

Imo. So man and man should be ; 

But clay and clay differs in dignity, 
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. 

Gui. Go you to hunting. I'll abide with him. 

Imo. So sick I am not ; yet I am not well : 
But not so citizen a wanton, as 
To seem to die, ere sick : So please you leave me , 
Slick to your journal course: the breach of custom 
Is breach of all. 9 I am ill ; but your being by me 
Cannot amend me : Society is no comfort 
To one not sociable : I'm not very sick, 
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here : 
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, 
Stealing so poorly. 

Gui. I love thee ; I have spoke it : 

How much the quantity, the weight as much, 
As I do love my father. 

Bel. What? how? how? 

Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 



1 I have elsewhere observed that prize, prise, and 
price were confounded, or used indiscriminately by our 
ancestors. Indeed it is not now uncommon at this day, 
as Malone observes, to hear persons above the vulgar 
confound the words, and talk of hish-priz'd and low- 
j>riz'd goods. Prize here is evidently used for value, 

estimation. The reader who wishes to see how the 
words were formerly confounded, may consult Baret's 
Alvearie, in v. price. 

2 To wring is to writhe. So in Much Ado about 
Nothing, Act v. Sc. 1 :— 

' To those that wring under the load of sorrow.' 

3 Differing multitudes are varying or trartring mul- 
titudes. So in the Induction to the Second Part of Kitiff 
Henry VI. :— 

1 The still discordant wavering multitude," 



that he used ' since Leonatus' false' for ' since Leonatus 
is false.' Steevens doubts this, and says that the poet 
may have written ' Since Leonate is false,' as he carls 
Enobarbus, Enobarbe ; and Prospero, Prosper, in 
other places. 

5 He co?nmands the commission to be given you. So. 
we say, I ordered the materials to the workmen. 

6 i. e. cause. 

7 ' In single combat.' So in King Henry IV. Fart I. 
Act i. Sc. 3 •— 

' In single opposition, hand to hand, 

He did confound the best part of an honr 

In changing hardiment with great Glendower.' 

An opposite, in the language of Shakspeare's age, was 

the common phrase for an antagonist. 

Imperseverant probably means no more than perse- 

verant, like imbosomed, impassioned, immaskea. 

8 Warburton thought we should read, ' before her 
face.' Malone says, that Shakspeare may have inten 
tionally given this absurd and brutal language to Cloten. 
The Clown ir The Winter's Tale saysj ' If thou'lt see 
a thing to talk of after thou art dead.' 

9 ' Keep your daily course uninterrupted ; if the stated 



4 Malone says, ' As Shakspeare has used in other 
places Meuelaus' te;,t, and thy mistress' ear for ' Mene- plan of life is once broken, nothing follows but coufu- 

probable 6ion.'— Johnson. 



auses tent,' and ' thy mistresses ear :' it is 



Scene II. 



CYMBELINE. 



329 



In my good brother's fault : I know not why 
I love this youth ; and I have heard you say, 
Love's reason's without reason ; the bier at door, 
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, 
My father, not this youth. 

Bel. O, noble strain ! [Aside. 

O, worthiness of nature ! breed of greatness ! 
Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base : 
Nature hath meal, and bran ; contempt, and grace. 
I am not their father : yet who this should be, 
Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me. — 
'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. 

Arv. Brother, farewell. 

Imo. I wish ye sport. 

Arv. You health. — So please you, sir. 

Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures. Gods, 
what lies I have heard ! 
Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court : 
Experience, O, thou disprov'st report ! 
The imperious 1 seas breed monsters; for the dish, 
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. 
I am sick still ; heart-sick : — Pisanio, 
I'll now taste of thy drug. 

Gui. • I could not stir him ; 

He said, he was gentle, 2 but unfortunate ; 
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. 

Arv. Thus did he answer me : yet said, hereafter 
I might know more. 

Bel. To the field, to the field : — 

We'll leave you for this time ; go in, and rest. 

Arv. We'll not be long away. 

Bel. P ra y» be not sick, 

For you must be our housewife. 

Imo. Well, or ill, 

I am bound to you. 

Bel. And shalt be ever. 

[Exit Imogen. 
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had 
Good ancestors. 

Arv. How angel-like he sings ! 

Gui. But his neat cookery ! He cut our roots in 
characters ; 
And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick, 
And he her dieter. 

Arv. Nobly he yokes 

A smiling with a sigh ; as if the sigh 
Was that it was, for not being such a smile ; 
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly 
From so divine a temple, to commix 
With winds that sailors rail at. 

Gui. I do note, 

That grief and patience, rooted in him both, 
Mingle their spurs 3 together. 

Arv. Grow, patience ! 

And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 
His perishing root, with the increasing vine !* 

Bel. It is great morning. 5 Come; away. — Who's 
there ? 

Enter Cloten. 

Clo. I cannot find those runagates ; that villain 
Hath mock'd me : I am faint. 

Bel. Those runagates ! 

Means he not us? I partly know him ; 'tis 
Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. 
I saw him not these many years, and yet 
I know 'tis he : — We are held as outlaws : — Hence. 



1 Here anain Malone asserts that ' imperious was 
used by Shakapeare for imperial.'' This is absurd 
enouah when we look at the context: what has impe- 
rial To do with seas ? Imperious has here its usual 
meaning of proud, haughty. See Troilus and Cres- 
sida, Act iv. Sc. 5. 

2 ' I could not move him to tell his story.' Gentle is 
of a gentle race or rank, well born. 

3 Spars are the longest and largest leading roots of 
trees. We have the word again in The Tempest :— 

' The strong bas'd promontory 

Have I made shake, and by the spurs 

Pluck 'd up the pine and cedar.' 

•1 How much difficulty has been made to appear in 

this simple figurative passage ! which to me appears 

sufficiently intelligible without a note. ' Let patience 

grow, and let the" stinking elder, grief, untwine his 

2 R 



Gui. He is but one : You and my brother search 
What companies are near : pray you away ; 
Let me alone with him. 

[Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus. 

Clo. Soft ! What are you 

That fly me thus ? some villain mountaineers'/ 
I have heard of such. What slave art thou ? 

Gui. A thing 

More slavish did I ne'er, than answering 
A slave, without a knock. 6 

Clo. Thou art a robber, 

A law-breaker, a villain : Yield thee, thief. 

Gui. To who ? to thee ? What art thou ? Have 
not I 
An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? 
Thy words, I grant, are bigger ; for I wear not 
My dagger in my mouth. 7 Say, what thou art ; 
Why I should yield to thee? 

Clo. Thou villain base, 

Know'st me not by my clothes ? 

Gui. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 

Who is thy grandfather ; he made those clothes, 
Which, as it seems, make thee. 8 

Clo. Thou precious varlet, 

My tailor made them not. 

Gui. Hence, then, and thank 

The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; 
I am loath to beat thee. 

Clo. Thou injurious thief, 

Hear but my name, and tremble. 

Gui. What's thy name 1 

Clo. Cloten, thou villain. 

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, 
I cannot tremble at it ; were't toad, or adder, spider, 
'Twould move me sooner. 

Clo. To thy further fear, 

Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know 
I'm son to the queen. 

Gui. I'm sorry for't ; not seeming 

So worthy as thy birth. 

Clo. Art not afeard ? 

Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear ; tho 
wise : 
At fools I laugh, not fear them. 

Clo. Die the death : 

When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 
I'll follow those that even now fled hence, 
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads ■ 
Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting. 

Enter Belarius and Arviragus. 

Bel. No company's abroad. 

Arv. None in the world : You did mistake him, 
sure. 

Bel. I cannot tell : Long is it since I saw him, 
But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour 
Which then he wore ; the snatches in his voice, 
And burst of speaking, were as his : I am absolute. 
'Twas very Cloten. 

Arv. In this place we left them : 

I wish my brother make good time with him, 
You say he is so fell. 

Bel. Being scarce made up, 

I mean, to man, he had not apprehension 
Of roaring terrors ; for defect of judgment 
Is oft the cure 9 of fear : But see, thy brother. 



perishing root from those of the increasing vine, pa- 
tience.'' I have already observed, that with, from, and 
by, are almost always convertible winds. 

5 The same phrase occurs in Troilus and Cressida, 
Act iv. Sc. 3. It is a Gallicism : — ' II est grand matin.' 

6 i.e. than answering that abusive word slave. 

7 So in Solyman and Perseda, 1599 : — 

' I fightnol with, my tongue : this is my oratrix ' 
Macduff says to Macbeth : — 

' 1 have no words ; 

My voice is in my sword.' 
3 See a note on a similar passage in a former scene, 
p. 324, Act iii. Sc. 4. 

9 The old copy reads, 'Is oft the cause of fear ;' but 
this cannot be right : Belarius is assigning a reason for 
Cloten's fool-hardy desperation, not accounting for h',3 
cowardice. The emendation adopted is Hanmer'a 



330 



CYMBELINE. 



Act IV, 



Re-enler Guiderhts, with Cloten's Head. 
Gui. This Cloten was a fool : an empty purse, 
There was no money in't : not Hercules 
Could have knockM out his brains, for he had none : 
Yet, I not doing this, the fool had borne 
My head, as I do his. 

Bel. What hast thou done ? 

Gui. I am perfect, 1 what: cut off one Cloten's 
head ; 
Son to the queen, after his own report ; 
Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer ; and swore, 
With his own single hand he'd take us in, 2 
Displace our heads, where, (thank the gods !) they 

grow, 
And set them on Lud's town. 

Bel. We are all undone. 

Qui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, 
But that he swore to take, our lives ? The law 
Protects not us : Then why should we be tender 
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ; 
Play judge, and executioner, all himself; 
For 3 we do fear the law ? What company 
Discover you abroad ? 

Bel. No single soul 

Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason, [mour* 
He must have some attendants. Though his hu- 
Was nothing but mutation ; ay, and that 
From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not 
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, 
To bring him here alone : Although, perhaps, 
It may be heard at court, that such as we 
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time 
May make some stronger head : the which he 

hearing, 
(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear 
He'd fetch us in ; yet is't not probable 
To come alone, either he so undertaking, 
Or they so suffering : then on good ground we fear, 
If we do fear this body hath a tail 
More perilous than the head. 

Arv. Let ordinance 

Come as the gods foresav it : howsoe'er, 
My brother hath done well. 

Bel. I had no mind 

To hunt this day : the boy Fidele's sickness 
Did make my way long forth. 4 

Gui. With his own sword, 

Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en 
His head from him : I'll throw't into the creek 
Behind our rock ; and let it to the sea, 
And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten : 
That's all I reck. [Exit. 

Bel. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd : 

'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done*'t ! though 

valour 
Becomes thee -well enough. 

Arv. . 'Would, I had done't, 

So the revenge alone pursued me ! — Polydore, 
I love thee brotherly ; but envy much, 
Thou hast robb'd me of this deed : I would, 
revenges, [through, 

That possible strength might meet, 6 would seek us 
And put us to our answer. 



1 ' I am well informed what.' 

2 i. e. conquer, subdue us. 

3 For again in the sense of cause. See note on Act 
iv. Sc. 1. 

4 The old copy reads, ' his honour.' The emenda- 
tion is Theobald's. Malone has shown that the words 
honour and humour have been erroneously printed for 
each other in other passages of the old editions. 

5 ' Fidele's sickness made my walk forth from the 
cave tedious.' So in King Richard III. : — 

' our crosses on the way 

Have made it tedious,' &c. 

6 ' Such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any pos- 
sibility of opposition.' 

7 ' To restore Fidele to the bloom of health, to recall 
the colour into his cheeks, I would let out the blood of 
a whole parish, or any number of such fellows as Clo- 
ten.' A parish is a common phrase for a great number. 

'Hecven give you joy, sweet master Palatine. 
And to you, sir, a whole parish of children.' 

The Wits, by Davenant, p. 222. 



Bel. Well, 'tis done : — 
We'll hunt no more to-day, nor se-ek for danger 
Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock ; 
You and Fidele play the cooks : I'll stav 
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him 
To dinner presently. 

Arv. Poor sick Fidele ! 

I'll willingly to him : To gain his colour, 
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,' 
And praise myself for charity. [Exit. 

Bel. O, thou goddess, 

Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st 
In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, 
Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, 
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, 
That by the top doth take the mountain pine, 
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful, 
That an invisible instinct should frame them 
To royalty unlearn'd : honour untaught ; 
Civility not seen from other ; valour, 
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
As if it had been sovv'd ! Yet still it's strange 
What Cloten's being here to us portends; 
Or what his death will bring us. 

Re-enler Guiderius. 

Gui. Where's my brother ? 

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, 
In embassy to his mother ; his body's hostage 
For his return. \ Solemn music. 

Bel. My ingenious instrument ! 

Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion 
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion ! Hark ! 

Gui. Is he at home ? 

Bel. He went hence even now. 

Gui. What does he mean ? since death of my 
dear'st mother 
It did not speak before. All solemn things 
Should answer solemn accidents. The matter ? 
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys. 8 
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys ; 
Is Cadwal mad ? 

Re-enkr Arviragus, hearing Imogen, as dead, in 
his arms. 

Bel. Look, here he comes, 

And brings the dire occasion in his arms, 
Of what we blame him for ! 

Arv. The bird is dead, 

That we have made so much on. I had rather 
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, 
Than have seen this. 

Gui. O, sweetest, fairest lily ! 

My brother wears thee not the one half so well. 
As when thou grew'st thyself. 

Bel. O, melancholy ! 

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find 
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare 9 
Might easiliest harbour in 7 — Thou blessed thing! 
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made V 

but I, 10 

Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! — 
How found you him ? 

Arv. Stark," as you see : 



8 Toys are trifles. 

9 A crare was a small vessel of burthen, sometimes 
spelled craer, crayer, and even craye. The old copy 

reads, erroneously, ; thy sluggish care.' The 

emendation was suggested' by Sympson in a note on 
The Captain of Beaumont and Fletcher: — 

' lee him venture 

In some decayed crare of his own. 

10 We should most probably read, ' but ah '.' Jly is 
always printed ah ! in the first folio, and other books of 
the time. Hence, perhaps, /, which was used for the 
affirmative particle ay, crept into the text. 'Heaven 
knows (says Belarius) what a man thou wouklst have 
been hadsl thou lircd ; but, alas ! thou died'st of melan- 
cho:y, while yet only a most accomplished boy > 

11 Start,- means entirely cold and stiff. 

' And many a nobleman lies stark- — 
Under the hoofs of vaulting enemies." 

King Henry IV Fart I 



SCEHE II. 



CYMBELINE. 



331 



Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, 
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at : his right cheek 
Reposing on a cushion. 

Gui. Where ? 

Arv. O' the floor ; 

His arms thus leagu'd : I thought, he slept : and 

put 
My clouted brogues 1 from off" my feet, whose rude- 
ness 
Answer' d my steps too loud. 

Gui. Why, he but sleeps : 2 

If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; 
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
And worms will not come to thee. 3 

Arv. With fairest flowers, 

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack 
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
The azur'd harebell, like thy veins ; no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock* would, 
With charitable bill (O, bill, sore-shaming 
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument !) bring thee all this ; 
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, 
To winter-ground 5 thy corse. 

Gui. Pr'ythce, have done ; 

And do not play in wench-like words with that 
Which is so serious. Let us bury him, 
And not protract with admiration what 
Is now due debt. — To the grave. 

Arv. Say, where shall's lay him ? 

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. 

Arv. Be't so : 

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
Have got the mannish crack, sine him to the ground, 
As once our mother ; use like note, and words, 
Save that Euriphile. must be Fidele. 

Gui. Cadwal, 
I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thee : 
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 
Than priests and fanes that lie. 

Arv. We'll speak it then. 

Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less : 6 for 
Cloten 



* 1 ' Clouted brogues' are coarse wooden shoes, strength- 
ened with clout or hob-nails. In some pans of England 
thin plates of iron, called clouts, are fixed to the shoes 
of rustics. 

2 'I cannot forbear (says Steevens) to introduce a 
passage somewhat like this from Webster's White 
Devil, or Vittoria Corombona [1612,] on account of its 
singular beauty : — 

' Oh, thou soft natural death ! thou art joint twin 
To sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet 
Stares on thy mild departure : the dull owl 
Beats not against thy casement : the hoarse wolf 
Scents not thy carrion : — -pity winds thy corse, 
While horror waits on princes !' 

3 Steevens imputes great violence to this change of 
person, and would read, 'come to him;' but there is 
no impropriety in Guiderius's sudden address to the 
body itself. It might, indeed, be ascribed to our author's 
careless manner, of which an instance like the present 
occurs at the beginning of the next act, where Posthu- 
mus says,* 

' - you married ones, 

If each of you would take this course, how many 
Must murder wives much better than themselves.' 

Douce. 

4 The ruddock is the red-breast. 

5 To winter-ground appears to mean to dress or deco- 
"ate thy corse with ' furred moss,' for a winter covering, 
when there are no flowers to strew it with. In Cornu- 
copia, or Divers Secrets, &c. by Thomas Johnson, 4to. 
1596, sig. E. it is said, ' The robin red-breast „H' he finds 
a .man or woman dead, will cover all his face with 
mosse ; and some thinke that if the body should remain 
unb-uried that he would cover the whole body also.' The 
reader will remember the pathetic old ballad of the 
Children in the Wood. 

6 So in a former passage of this play : 

' a touch more rare 

Subdues all pangs and fears.' 
And in King Lear : — 

' Where the greater malady is fix'd, 

The lesser is scarce felt.' 



Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys : 
And, though he came our enemy, remember, 
He was paid 7 for that : Though mean and inighty 3 

rotting 
Together, have one dust ; yet reverence, 8 
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction 
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was 

princely ; 
And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
Yet bury him as a prince. 

Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. 

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, 
When neither are alive. 

Arv. If you'll go fetch him, 

We'll say our song the whilst. — Brother, begin. 

[Exit Bklarius. 
Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the 
east; 
My father hath a reason for't. 

Arv. 'Tis true. 

Gui. Come on, then, and remove him. 
Arv. So, — begin. 

SONG. 
Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 3 

Nor the furious winter's rages ; 
Thou thy worldly task hast done, 

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : 
Golden lads and girls all must, 
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great, 

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke j 
Care no more to clothe, and eat ; 

To thee the reed is as the oak : 
The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
All follow this, and come to dust. 10 

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, 
Arv. JVor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; 
Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash ; 
Arv. Thou hast finished joy and moan : 
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign 1 ' to thee, and come to dust. 

Gui. No exorciser 1 - harm thee! 
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! 
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! 
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee ! 
Both. Quiet consummation* J have; 

And renowned be thy grave ."* 

7 i. e. punished. Falstaflf, after having been beaten, 
when in the dress of an old woman, says, 'Ipay'd nothing 
for it neither, but icas paid for my learning.' 

8 Reverence, or due regard to subordination, is the 
power that keeps peace and order in the world. 

9 This is the topic of consolation that nature dictates 
to all men on these occasions. 

10 ' The poet's sentiment seems to have been this : — 
All human excellence is equally subject to the stroke of 
death : neither the power of kings, nor the science of 
scholars, nor the art of those whose immediate study is 
the prolongation of life, can protect them from the final 
destinv of man.'- — Johnson. 

11 To ' consign to thee' is to ' seal the same contract 
with thee ;' i. e. add their names to thine upon the regis- 
ter of death. So in Romeo and Juliet : — 

' seal 

A dateless bargain to engrossing death. 

12 It has already been observed that exorciser ancient- 
ly signified a person who could raise spirits, not one 
who lays them. 

13 Consummation is used in the same sense in King 
Edward III. 1596 :— 

' My soul will yield this castle of my flesh, 
This mingled tribute, with all willingness. 
To darkness, consummation, dust, and worms.' 
Milton, in his Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winches, 
ter, is indebted to the passage before us: — 
' Gentle lady, may thy grave 
Peace and quiet ever have.' 

14 ' For the obsequies of Fidele (says Dr. Johnson) a 
song was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William 
Collins of Chichester, a man of uncommon learning and 
abilities. I shall give it a place.at the end. in honour of 
his memory. 



S32 



CYMBELINE. 



Act IV. 



Re-enter Belarius, wkh the Body of Cloten. 
Gui. We have done our obsequies : Come lay 

him clown. 
Bel. Here's a few flowers, but about midnight, 
more : 
The herbs, that have on them cold dew o' the 

night, 
Are strewings fitt'st for graves. — Upon (heir faces :' 
You were as flowers, now wither'd : even so 
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow. — 
Come on, away : apart upon our knees. 
The ground, that gave them first, has them again; 
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. 

[Exeunt Bel. Gui. and Art. 

Jmo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford Haven ; 

Which is the way? — 

I thank you. — By yon bush ? — Pray,how far thither ? 

'Ods pittikins! 2 — can it be six miles yet? 

I have gone all night: — 'Faith, I'll lay down and 

sleep. 
But, soft ! no bedfellow : — O, gods and goddesses ! 
[Seeing the Body. 
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world ; 
This bloody man, the care on't. — I hope, I dream ; 
For, so, I thought! was a cave-keeper, 
And cook to honest creatures : But 'tis not so : 
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, 
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes 
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good 

faith, 
I tremble still with fear : But if there be 
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! 
The dream's here still ; even when I wake, it is 
Without me, as within me ; not imagin'd, felt. 
A headless man ! — The garments of Posthumus ! 
I know the shape of his leg ; this is his hand ; 
His foot Mercurial ; his Martial thigh ; 
The brawns of Hercules : but his Jovial 3 face — 
Murder in heaven ? — How ? — 'Tis gone. — Pisanio, 
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, 
And mine to boot, be darted on thee ! Thou, 
Conspir'd with that irregulous 1 devil, Cloten, 
Hast here cut off my lord. — To write, and read, 
Be henceforth treacherous ! — Damn'd Pisanio 
Hath with his forged letters, — damn'd Pisanio — 
From this most bravest vessel of the world 
Struck the main-top ! — O, Posthumus ! alas, 
Where is thy head ? where's that ? Ah me ! where's 

that ? 
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, 
And left this head on. 5 — How should this be ? 

Pisanio ? 
'Tis he, and Cloten : malice and lucre in them 
Have laid this wo here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant ! 6 
The drug he gave'me, which, he said, was precious 
And cordial to' me, have I not found it 
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home : 
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's ! O ! — 
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, 



1 Malone observes, that ' Shakspeare did not recol- 
lect when he wrote these words, that there was but one 
face on which the flowers could be strewed.' It is one 
of the poet's lapses of thought,' and will countenance the 
passage remarked upon in Act iv. Sc. 1. 

2 This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's 
pity, by the addition of kin. In this manner we have 
also 'Od^s bodikhis. 

3 ' Jovial face' here signifies such a face as belongs 
to Jove. The. epithet is frequently so used in the old 
dramatic writers ; particularly Hey wood : — 

' Alcides here will stand 

To plague you all with his high Jorial hand.' 

The Silver Age. 

4 Irregulous must mean lawless, licentious, out of 
rule. The word has not hitherto been met with else- 
where : but in Reinolds's God's Revenge against Adul- 
tery, ed. 1671, p. 121, we have Urregutated lust.' 

5 This is another of the poet's lapses, unless we at- 
tribute the error to the old printers, and read, ' thy head 
en.' We must understand by ' this head,' the head of 
Tosthumus ; the head that did belong to this body. 

6 i. e. 'tis a ready, apposite conclusion. 

7 Shakspeare appears to have meant brother to the 



That we the horrider may seem to those 
Which chance to find us : O, my lord, my lord ! 

Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a 
Soothsayer. 
Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, 
After your will, have cross'd the sea ; attending 
You here at Milford Haven, with your ships : 
They are here in readiness. 

Luc. But what from Rome ? 

Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, 
And gentlemen of Italy ; most willing spirits, 
That promise noble service ; and they come 
Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, 
Sienna's brother. 7 

Luc. When expect you them? 

Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind. 

Luc. This forwardness 

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present 

numbers 
Be muster'd ; bid the captains look to't. — Now, sir, 
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's 
purpose ? 

Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me * 
vision : 8 
(I fast, 9 and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :- 
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd 
From the spungy 10 south to this part of the west, 
There vanish'd in the sunbeams : which portends 
Unless my sins abuse my divination,) 
Success to the Roman host. 

Luc. Dream often so, 

And never false. — Soft, ho ! what trunk is here, 
Without his top ? The ruin speaks, that sometime 
It was a worthy building. — How ! a page ! — 
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather: 
For nature doth abhor to make his bed 
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. — 
Let's see the boy's face. 

Cap. He is alive, my lord. 

Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. — Young 
one, 
Inform us of thy fortunes : for it seems, 
They crave to be demanded : Who is this, 
Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he, 
That, otherwise than noble nature did,' 1 
Hath alter'd that good picture ? What's thy interest 
In this sad wreck? How came it ? Who is it? 
What art thou ? 

Imo. I am nothing : or if not, 

Nothing to be were better. This was my master, 
A very valiant Briton, and a good, 
That here by mountaineers lies slain : — Alas ! 
There are no more such masters : I may wander 
From east to Occident, cry out for service, 
Try many, all good, serve truly, never 
Find such another master. 

Luc. 'Lack, good youth 

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than 
Thy master in bleeding : Say his name, good friend. 

Imo. Richard du Champ. 12 If I do lie, and do 



prince of Sienna. He was not aware that Sienna was 
a republic, or possibly did not heed it. 

8 It was no common dream, but sent from the very 
gods, or the gods themselves. 

9 Fast for fasted, as we have in another place of this 
play lift for lifted. In King John we have heat for 
heated, iraft for xcafted, &c. Similar phraseology will 
be found in the Bible, Mark, i. 31 ; John, xiii. 13 ; 
Exodus, xii. 8, &c. ' . 

10 Milton has availed himself of this epithet in Co 
mus : — 

' Thus I hurl 

My dazzling spells into the spungy air.' 

11 Who has altered this picture, so as to make it other 
wise than nature did it? Olivia, speaking of her own 
beauty as of a picture, asks Viola if ' it is not well 
done ." 

12 Shakspeare was indebted for his modern names 
(which sometimes are mixed with ancient ones), as 
well as for his anachronisms, to the fnshionable novels 
of his time. Steevens cites some amusing instances 
from a Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 1576. But 
the absurdity was not confined to novels : the drama 
would afford numerous examples. 



ScEKTE IV. 



CYMBELINE. 



333 



No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope 

[Aside. 
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir ? 

Luc. Thy name ? 

Imo. Fidele, sir. 

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same : 
Thy name well fits thy faith ; thy faith, thy name. 
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, 
Thou shalt be so well master'd ; but, be sure, 
No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, 
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner 
Than thine own worth prefer thee : Go with me. 

Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, 
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep 
As these poor pickaxes' can dig ; and when 
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd 

his grave, 
And on it said a century of prayers, 
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh ; 
And, leaving so his service, follow you, 
So please you entertain me. 

Luc. Ay, good youth ; 

And rather father thee, than master thee.— 
My friends, 

The boy hath taught us manly duties : Let us 
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, 
And make him with our pikes and partizans 
A grave : Come, arm him. 2 — Boy, he is preferr'd 
By thee to us ; and he shall be interr'd, 
As soldiers can. Be cheerful ;• wipe thine eyes : 
Some falls are means the happier to arise. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A Room, in Cymbeline's Palace. 
Enter Cymbeloe, Lords, and Pisanio. 
Cym. Again ; and bring me word, how 'tis with 

her. 
A fever with the absence of her son : 
A madness, of which her life's in danger : — 

Heavens, 
How deeply you at once do touch me ! Imogen, 
The great part of my comfort, gone : my queen 
Upon a desperate bed ; and in a time 
When fearful wars point at me, her son gone, 
So needful for this present : It strikes me, past 
The hope of comfort. — But for thee, fellow, 
Who needs must know of her departure, and 
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee 
By a sharp torture. 

Pis. Sir, my life is yours, 

I humbly set it at your will : But, for my mistress, 
I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 
Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your 

highness, 
Hold me your loyal servant. 

1 Lord. Good my liege, 

The day that she was missing, he was here : 
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform 
All parts of bis subjection loyally. 
For Cloten, — 

There wants no diligence in seeking him, 
And will, 3 no doubt, be found. \. 



1 Meaning her fingers. 

2 That is ' take him up in your arms.' So in Flet- 
cher's Two Noble Kinsmen : — 

' Jlrm your prize, 

I know you will not lose her.' 
The prize was Emilia. 

3 Perhaps we should read, ' he'll no doubt be found.' 
But thin omission of the personal pronoun was by no 
means uncommon in Shakspeare's age. There are 
several other instances in these plays, especially in 
King Hi;nry VIII. : take one example : — 

' which if eranted, 

As he made semblance of his duty, would 
Have put his knife into him. 1 
See Lear, Act ii. Si. 4. 

4 'My suspicion is yet undetermined ; If I do not con- 
demn you, I likewise have not acquitted you.' We now 
say, the caiise is depending. 

6 i. e. confounded by a variety of business. 

6 * Your forces are able to face such an army as we 
Aear the enemy will bring against us.' 

7 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, ' I've had no letter.' 



Cym. The time's troublesome : 
We'll slip you for a season ; but our jealousy 

[To Pisanio, 
Does yet depend.* 

1 Jjord. So please your majesty, 

The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, 
Are landed on your coast ; with a supply 
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. 

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and 
queen ! — 
I am amaz'd with matter. 5 

I Lord. Good my liege, 

Your preparation can affront 6 no less 
Than what you hear of: come more, for mors 

you're ready : 
The want is, but to put those powers in motion, 
That long to move. 

Cym. I thank you : Let's withdraw j 

And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not 
What can from Italy annoy us ; but 
We grieve at chances here. — Away. [Exeunt. 

Pis. I heard no letter' from my master, since 
I wrote him, Imogen was slain : 'Tis strange : 
Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise 
To yield me often tidings ; Neither know I 
What is betid to Cloten ; but remain 
Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work : 
Wherein I am false, I am honest ; not true, to be 

true. 
These present wars shall find I love my country, 
Even to the note 8 o' the king, or I'll fall in them. 
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd : 
Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer' d. 

[Exit. 

SCENE W. Before the Cave. Enter Belarius, 
Guiderius, and Arviragus. 

Gui. The noise is round about us. 

Pel. Let us from it. 

Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it 
From action and adventure ? 

Gui. Nay, what hope 

Have we in hiding us ? this way, the Romans 
Must, or for Britons slay us ; or receive us 
For barbarous and unnatural revolts, 9 
During their use, and slay us after. 

Bel. Sons, 

We'll higher to the mountains ; there secure us. 
To the king's party there's no going ; newness 
Of Cloten s death (we being not known, no! 

muster'd 
Among the bands) may drive us to a render 10 
Where we have liv'd ; and so extort from us 
That which we've done, whose answer would be 

death 
Drawn on with torture. 

Gui. This is, sir, a doubt, 

In such a time, nothing becoming you, 
Nor satisfying us. 

Arv. It is not likely, 

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, 
Behold their quarter'd fires," have both their eyes 
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, 
That they will waste their time upon our note, 
To know from whence we are. 



But perhaps ' no letter'' is here used to signify ' no 
tidings,' not a syllable of reply. 

S ' I will so distinguish myself, the king shall remark 
my valour.' 

9 i. e. revolters. As in King John : — 

' Lead me to the revolts of England here.' 

10 ' An account of our place of abode.' This dialogue 
is a just representation of the superfluous caution of 
an old man. 

Render is used in a similar sense in a future scene of 
this play : — 

' My boon is, that this gentleman may render 
Of whom he had this ring.' 

11 i. e. the fires in the respective quarters of the Roman 
army. Their beacon or watch fires. So in King Henry 
V.:— 

' Fire answers fire : and through their paly flames 
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face ' 



&31 



CYMBELINE. 



Act "V. 



Bel. O, I am known 
Of many in the army : many years, 
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore 

him 
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king 
Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves ; 
Who find in my exile the want of breeding, 
The certainty of this hard life ;' ay, hopeless 
To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, 
Uut to be still hot summer's tanlings, and 
The shrinking slaves of winter. 

Gui. Than be so, 

Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army : 
I and my brother are not known ; yourself 
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, 
Cannot be question'd. 

Arv. By this sun that shiner, 

I'll thither : What thing is it, that I never 
Did see man die ? scarce ever look'd on blood, 
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison? 
Never b. strid a horse, save one, that had 
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel 
Nor iron on his heel ? I am asham'd 
To look upon the holy sun, to have 
The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining 
So long a poor unknown. 

Gui. By heavens, I'll go : 

If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, 
I'll take the better care ; but if you will not, 
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by 
The hands of Romans ! 

Arv. So say I ; Amen. 

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set 
So slight a valuation, should reserve 
My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys : 
If in your country wars you chance to die, 
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie : 
Lead, lead. — The time seems long ; their blood 
thinks scorn, [Aside. 

Till it fly out, and show them princes born. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT V. 
SCENE I. A Field between the British and Ro- 
man Camps. Enter Posthumus, vitih a bloody 
Handkerchief. 2 

Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee ; for I wish'd 
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, 
If each of you would take this course, how many 
Must murder wives much better than themselves, 
For wrying 3 but a little ? — O, Pisanio ! 
Every good servant does not all commands : 
No bond, but to do just ones. — Gods ! if you 
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never 
Had liv'd to. put on 4 this : so had you saved 
The noble Imogen to repent ; and struck 
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack, 



1 That is, ' the certain consequence of this hard life.' 

2 The bloody token of Imogen's death, which Pisa- 
nio, in the foregoing act, determined to send. 

'This is a soliloquy of nature, uttered when the effer- 
vescence of a mind agitated and perturbed, spontaneous- 
ly and inadvertently discharges itself in words. The 
speech throughout all its tenor, if the last conceit be 
excepted, seems to issue warm from the heart. He first 
condemns his own violence ; then tries to disburden 
himself by imputing part of the crime to Pisanio ; he 
next sooths his mind to an artificial and momentary 
tranquillity, by trying to think that he has been only an 
instrument of the gods for the happiness of Imogen. — 
He is now grown reasonable enough to determine that, 
having doneso much evil, he will do no more ; that he 
will not fight against the country which he has already 
injured ; but, as life is no longer supportable, he will die 
in a just cause, and die with the obscurity of a man 
w'lio does not think himself worthy to be remembered.' 
— Johnson. 

3 This uncommon verb is used by Stanyhurst in the 
third book of the translation of Virgil : — 

' — — the mayfters wrye their vessells.' 
And in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. i. ed. 1633, p. 67 : — ' That 
from the right line of virtue are wryed to these crooked 
eshllu > 



You snatch some hence for little faults ; that's love 

To have them fall no more : you some permit 

To second ills with ills, each elder worse : b 

And make them dread it to the doer's shrift. 6 

But Imogen is your own : Do your best wills, 

And make me bless'd to obey ! — I am brought hither 

Among the Italian gentry, and to fight 

Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough 

That, Britain, 1 have kill'd thy mistress ; peace! 

I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, 

Hear patiently my purpose : I'll disrobe me 

Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself 

As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight 

Against the part I come with ; so I'll die 

For thee, O, Imogen, even for whom my life 

Is, every breath, a death . and thus, unknown, 

Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 

Myself I'll dedicate. Le< me make men know 

More valour in me, than my habits show. 

Gods put the strength o' the Leonati in me ! 

To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin 

The fashion, less without, ?nd more within. [Exit. 

SCENE II. The same. Enter at one side, Lucius, 
Iachimo, and the Ro'.nan Army; at the other 
side, the British Army ; Leonatus Posthumus 
following it, like a poor Soldier. They march over, 
and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skir- 
mish, Iachimo and Posthumus : he vanquisheth 
and dkarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him. 

lack. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom 
Takes off my manhood : I have belied a lady, 
The princess of this covritry, and the air on't 
Revengingly enfeebles me ; Or could this carl,' 
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, 
In my profession ? Knighthoods and honours, borno 
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds 
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit. 
The Battle continues; the Britons,/?)/; Cymbeline 

is taken : then enter to his rescue, Belarius, 

Guiderius, and Arviragus. 

Bel. Stand, stand ! We have the advantage o t 
the ground ; 
The lane is guarded : nothing routs us, but 
The villany of our fears. 

Gui. Arv. Stand, stand, and fight! 

Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons : They 

rescue Cvmbeline, and exeunt. Then, enter 

Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. 

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; 
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such 
As war were hoodwink'd. 

Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. 

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely : or betimes 
Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt. 



4 To put on is to incite, instigate. 

5 The last deed is certainly not the oldest; but Shak- 
speare calls the deed of an elder man an elder deed. 
Where corruptions are, they grow with years, and the 
oldest sinner is the greatest. 

6 The old copy reads : — 

' And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.' 
Which the commentators have in vain tormented them- 
selves to give a meaning to. Mason endeavoured to 
give the sense of repentance to thrift : but his explana- 
tion better suits the passage as it now stands : — ' Some 
you snatch hence for liule faults : others you suffer to 
heap ills on ills, and afterwards make them dread hav- 
ing done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers.' Shrift 
is confession and repentance. The typographic-il error 
would easily arise in old printing, sh and th were fre- 
quently confounded. 

7 Carl or churl, is a clown or countryman, and is 
used by our old writers in opposition to a gentleman. 
Palsgrave, in his Eclaircissement de la Langue Fran- 
coise, 1530, explains the words carle, chorle, churle, by 
vilain, vilain lourdier ; and churlyshnesse by vilaine, 
rus/icite. The thought seems to have been imitated in 
Philaster : — 

' The gods take part against me ; could this boor 
Have held me thus else ?> 



Scene IV. 



CYMBELINE. 



S35 



SCENE HI. Another Part of the Field. Enter 
Posthumus and a British Lord. 

Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the 
stand '! 

Post. I did : 

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. 

Ij>rd. I did. 

Post. No blame be to you, sir ; for all was lost, 
But that the heavens fought : The king himself 
Of his wings destitute, 1 the army broken. 
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted, 
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work 
More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down 
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling 
Merely through fear; that the strait pass was 

damm'd 
With dead men, hurt behind) and cowards living 
To die with lengthen'd shame. 

Lord. Where was this lane ? 

Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd 
with turf; 
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, — 
An honest one, I warrant ; who deserv'd 
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, 
In doing this for his country ; — athwart the lane, 
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run 
The country base, 2 than to commit such slaughter ; 
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer 
Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame, 3 ) 
Made good the passage ; cry'd to those that fled, 
Our Britain's liearts die flying, not our men : 
To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards ! Stand ! 
Or we are Romans, and will give yuu that 
Like beasts, which you shun beastly ; and may save, 
Put to look back in frown : stand, stand. — These three, 
Three thousand confident, in act as many, 
(For three performers are the file, when all 
The rest do nothing,) with this word, stand, stand, 
Accommodated by the place, more charming, 
With their own nobleness, (which would have turn'd 
A distatf to a lance,) gilded pale looks, 
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd ; that some, turn'd 

coward 
But by example, (O, a sin in war, 
Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look 
The way that they did, and to grin like lions 
Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began 
A stop i' the chaser, a retire ; anon, 
A rout, confusion thick : Forthwith they fly 
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles ; 

slaves, 
The strides they victors made : and now our cowards, 
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became 
The life o' the need ; having found the back-door 

open 
Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound ! 
Some, slain before ; some, dying ; some, their 

friends 
O'erborne i' the former wave : ten, chas'd by one, 
Ave now each one the slaughter-man of twenty : 
Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown 
The k mortal bugs 4 o' the field. 

Lord. This was strange chance : 

A narrow lane ! an old man, and two boys ! 

Post. Nay, do not wonder at it : You are made 
Rather to wonder at the things you hear, 

1 The stopping of the Roman. army by three persons 
is an allusion to the story of the Hays, as related by Ho- 
linshed in his History .of Scotland, p. 155 ; upon which 
Milton once intended to have formed a drama. Shak- 
speare was evidently acquainted with it: — ' Haie be- 
holding the Icing, with the most part of the nobles fight- 
ing with great valiancie in the middle-ward, now desti- 
tute of the wings,'' &.c. 

2 A country game called prison bars, vulgarly pri- 
son-base. 

3 Shame, for modesty, or shamrfacedt/ess. 

4 i. e. terrors, bugbears. See King Henry VI. Part 
III. Act v. Sc. -2. 

' For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.' 

5 Alluding to the common superstition of charms being 
powerful enough to keep men unhurt in battle. 



Than to work any. Will you rhyme itpon't, 
And vent it for a mockery ? Here is one : 
Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, 
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane. 

Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. 

Post. 'Lack, to what end ? 

Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend : 
For if he'll do, as he is made to do, 
I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. 
You have put me into rhyme. 

Lord. Farewell, you are angry. [Exit. 

Post. Still going?— This is a lord! O, noble 
misery ! 
To be i' the field, and ask, what news, of me ! 
To-day, how many would have given their honours 
To have sav'd their carcasses ? took heel to do't, 
And yet died too ? I, in mine own wo charm'd, 5 
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan ; 
Nor feel him, where he struck : Being an ugly 

monster, 
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we 
That draw his knives i' the war. — Well, I will find 

him: 
For being now a favourer to the Roman, 
No more a Briton, I have resum'd again 
The part I came in : Fight I will no more, 
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall 
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is 
Here made by the Roman ; great the answer 6 be 
Britons must take ; For me, my ransom's death ; 
On either side I come to spend my breath ; 
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again, 
But end it by some means for Imogen. 

Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. 

1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd ! Lucius is taken . 
'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels. 

2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, 7 
That gave the affront 8 with them. 

1 Cap. So 'tis reported : 
But none of them can be found. — Stand! who is 

there ? 
Post. A Roman ; 
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds 
Had answer'd him. 

2 Cap, Lay hands on him ; a dog ! 
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell 

What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his 
service 

As if he were of note : bring him to the king. 

Enter Cymbeline, attended : Belarius, Guide- 
rius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman Cap- 
tives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cym- 
beline, who delivers him over to a Gaoler : after 
which, all go out. 9 

SCENE IV. A Prison. Enter Posthumus, and 
Two Gaolers. 

1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have 

locks upon you ; 1U 
So graze, as you find pasture. 

2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. \ Exeunt Gaolers. 
Post. Most welcome, bondage ! for thou art a way, 

I think, to liberty : Yet am I better 

Than one that's sick o' the gout : since he had 

rather 
Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd 
By the sure physician, death ; who is the key 



6 i. e. retaliation. As in a former scene : — 

' That which we've done, whose answer would be death.' 

7 Silly is simple or rustic. Thus in the novel of Boc 
caccio, on which this play is formed: — 'The servant, 
who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew 
pitifull, took off her upper garment, and gave her a 
poore ragged doublet, a silly chapperone.' 

8 i. e. the encounter. 

9 This stage direction for 'inexplicable dumb show' 
is probably an interpolation by the players. Shak- 
speare has expressed his contempt for such mummery 
in Hamlet. 

10 The wit of the Gaoler alludes to the custom of put 
ting a lock on a horse's leg when he is turned out to pas 
ture. 



S35 



CYMBELINE. 



Act V. 



To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art 

fetter'd 
More than my shanks, and wrists •. You good gods, 

give me 
The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, 
Then, free for ever ! Is't enough, I am sorry ? 
So children temporal fathers do appease ; 
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent ? 
I cannot do it better than in gyves, 
Desir'd, more than constrain'd : to satisfy, 
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take 
No stricter render of me, than my all. ' 
I know, you are more clement than vile men, 
Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again 
On their abatement ; that's not my desire : 
For Imogen's dear life, take mine ; and though 
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life ; you coin'd it : 
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp ; 
Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake : 
You rather mine, being yours : and so, great powers, 
If you will take this audit, take this life, 
And cancel these cold bonds. 2 O, Imogen ! 
I'll speak to thee in silence. [He sleeps. 

Solemn Music. 3 Enter, as an Apparition, Sicilius 
Leonatus, Father to Posthumus, an old Man, 
attired like a JVarrior ; leading in his hand an an- 
cient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to Posthu- 
Mus, with Music before them. Then, after other 
Music, follow the Two young Leonati, Brothers to 
Posthumus, with wounds, as they died in the Wars. 
They circle Posthumus round, as he lies sleeping . 
Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show, 
Thy spite on mortal flies : 
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, 
That thy adulteries 

Rates and revenges. 
Hath my poor boy done aught but well, 

Whose face I never saw ? 
I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd 

Attending Nature's law. 
Whose father then, (as men report, 

Thou orphans' father art,) 
Thou should'st have been, and shielded him 
From this earth-vexing smart. 
Moth. Lucina lent not mo her aid, 
But took me in my throes ; 
That from me was Posthumus rip'd, 
Came crying 'niongst his foes, 
A thing of pity ! 
Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry 
Moulded the stuff so fair, 
That he deserv'd the praise o' the world, 
As great Sicilius' heir. 
1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, 
In Britain where was he 
That could stand up his parallel; 

Or fruitful object be 
In eye of Imogen, that best 
Could deem his dignity ? 
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, 
To be exil'd and thrown 
From Leonati' seat, and cast 

1 This passage is very obscure, and I must say with 
Malone. that I think it is so rendered either by the omis- 
sion of a line, or some other corruption of the text. 
I have no faith in Malone's explanation : that which 
Steevens offers is not much more satisfactory ; but I have 
nothing better to offer. ' Posthumus questions whether 
contrition he sufficient atonement for guilt. Then to sa- 
tisfy the offended gods, he desires them to take no more 
than his present all, that is, his life, if it is the main 
part, the chief point, or principal condition of his 
Ireedom, i. e. of his freedom from future punishment.' 

2 So in Macbeth :— 

' Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond 

That keeps me pale.' 
There is an equivoque between the legal instrument and 
Dnnds of steel ; a little out of its place in a passage of 
pathetic exclamation. 

3 This Scene is supposed not to be Shakspeare's, bu 
foisted in bv the players for mere show. The great poet, 
who has conducted his fifth Act with such matchless 



From her his dearest one, 
Sweet Imogen ? 
Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo, 
Slight thing of Italy, 
To taint his nobler heart and brain 

With needless jealousy : 
And to become the geek* and scorn 
O' the other's villany ? 
2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came, 
Our parents, and us twain, 
That, striking in our country's cause, 

Fell bravely, and were slain ; 
Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, 
With honour to maintain. 

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hatn 
To Cymbeline perform'd : 

Then Jupiter, thou king of gods, 

Why has thou thus adjourn'd 
The graces for his merits due ; 
Being all to dolours tum'd ? 
Sici. Thy crystal window ope ; look out , 
No longer exercise, 
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh 
And potent injuries: 
31oth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, 

Take off his miseries. 
Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion, help: 
Or we poor ghosts will cry 
To the shining synod of the rest, 
Against thy deity. 

2 Bro. Help, Jupiter ; or we appeal, 
And from thy justice fly. 

Jupiter descaids in Thxinder and Lightning, sitting 
upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt. The 
Ghosts fall on their knees. 

Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, 

Offend our hearing ; hush '. How dare you, ghosts, 
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, 

Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts ? 
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence ; and rest 

Upon your never withering banks of flowers . 
Be not with mortal accidents opprest ; 

No care of yours it is, you know, 'tis ours. 
Whom best I love, I cross ; to make my gift, 

The more delay'd, delighted. 5 Be content ; 
Your low-laid son our god-head will uplift: 

His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent 
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in 

Our temple was ne married. — Rise, and fade'— 
He shall be lord of lady Imogen, 

And happier much by his affliction made. 
This tablet lay upon his breast ; wherein 

Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine ; 
And so, away : no further with your din 

Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. — 

Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline, f Ascends. 

Sici. He came in thunder ; his celestial breath 
Was sulphurous to smell : the holv eagle 
Stoop'd, as to foot us : G his ascension is 
More sweet than our bless'd fields ; his royal bird 
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys' his beak, 
As when his god is pleas'd. 

All. Thanks, Jupiter ! 

Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd 



skill, could never have designed the vision to be twice 
described by Posthumus, had this contemptible nonsense 
been previously delivered on the stage. It appears that 
the players indulged themselves sometimes in unwar 
rantable liberties of the same kind. Nashe, in his Len- 
ten Stuffe, 1590, assures us, that in a play of his, called 
the Isle of Dogs, four acts, without his consent, or the 
least guess of his drift or scope, were supplied by the 
players. Seethe Prolegomena to Malone's Shakspeare, 
vol. ii. ; article Sliakspeare, Ford, and Jonson. 

4 The fool. 

5 Delighted for delightful, or causing delight. 

6 i. e. to grasp us in his pounces. 

' And till they foot and clutch their prey.' 

Herbert. 

7 In ancient language, the cleys or dees of a bird or 
beast are the same with claws in modem speech To 
claw their beaks is an accustomed action wili hawks 
and eagles. 



■&JE-JCB V. 



CYMBELINE. 



337 



His radiant roof: — Away! and, to be blest, 
Let us with care perform his great behest. 

[Ghosts vanish. 

Pest. [IVaking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grand- 
sire, and begot 
A father to me : and thou hast created 
A mother and two brothers : But (O, scorn!) 
Gone ! they went hence so soon as they were born. 
And so I am awake. — Poor wretches that depend 
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done ; 
Wake, and find nothing. — But, alas, I swerve : 
Many dream not to find, neither deserve, 
And yet are steep'd in favours ; so am I, 
That have this golden chance, and know not why. 
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O, rare 

one ! 
Be not, as is our fangled 1 world, a garment 
Nobler than that it covers : let thy effects 
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, 
As a good promise. 
[Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself 

unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by 

a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar 

shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many 

years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old slock, 

and freshly grow ; then shall Posthumus end his 

miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace 

and plenty. 
'Tis still a dream ; or else such stuff" as madmen 
Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: 
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such 
As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, 
The action of my life is like it, which 
I'll keep, if but for sympathy. 

Re-enter Gaolers, 

Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death ? 

Post. Over-roasted rather : ready long ago. 

Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready 
for that, you are well cooked. 

Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the specta- 
tors, the dish pays the shot. 

Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the 
comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, 
fear no more tavern bills ; which are often the sad- 
ness of parting, as the procuring of mirth : you come 
in faint for the want of meat, depart reeling with 
too much drink ; sorry that you have paid too much, 
and sorry that you are paid 2 too much ; purse and 
brain both empty : the brain the heavier for being 
too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heavi- 
ness : O ! of this contradiction you shall now be 
quit. — O, the charity of a penny cord! it sums up 
thousands in a trice : you have no true debitor and 
creditor but it ; of what's past, is, and to come, the 
discharge : — Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and coun- 
ters ; so the acquittance follows. 

Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live. 

Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the 
tooth-ache : But a man that were to sleep your sleep, 
and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would 
change places with his officer ; for, look you, sir, 
Vuu know not which way you shall go. 

Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. 

GaoL Your death has eyes in's head, then ; I 
nave not seen him so pictured : you must either be 



1 i. e. trifling. Hence new-fangled, still in use for 
new toys or ti i ties. 

2 Paid, here means subdued or overcome by the 
liquor. 

3 i. e. hazard. 

4 Prone here signifies ready, prompt. As in Measure 
for Measure, Act i. Sc. 3. 

' in her youth 

There is a pi-one and speechless dialect, 
Such as moves men.' 
Thus also in L'ucan's Pharsalia, translated by Sir Ar- 
thur Gorges, b. vi. — 

' Thessalian fierie steeds, 

For use of war so prone and fit.' 
And in Wilfride Holme's poem, entitled The Fall and 
Evil Success of Rebellion, &c. 1537: — 
' With bombaru and basilisk, with men prone and 
vigorous.' 

55 



directed by some that take upon them to know ; or 
take upon yourself that,' which I am sure you do 
not know ; or jump' the after-inquiry on your own 
peril : and how you shall speed in your journey's 
end, I think you'll never return to tell one. 

Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes 
to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, 
and will not use them. 

Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man 
should have the best use of eves, to see the way of 
blindness ! I am sure, hanging s the way of winking. 
Enter a Messenger, 

Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your priso- 
ner to the king. 

Post. Thou bringest good news ; — I am called to 
be made free. 

Gaol. I'll be hanged then. 

Post. Thou shall be then freer than a gaoler; no 
bolts for the dead. 

[Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger. 

Gaol. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and 
beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. 4 
Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves de- 
sire to live, for all he be a Roman : and there be 
some of them too, that die against their wills ; so 
should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one 
mind, and one mind good ; O, there were desolation 
of gaolers and gallowses ! I speak against my pres- 
ent profit, but my wish hath a preferment m't. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE V. 6 Cymbeline's Tent. Enter Cymbe- 

line, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pi- 

sanio, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. 

Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have 
made 
Preservers of my throne. Wo is my heart, 
That the poor soldier that so richly fought, 
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast 
Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found : 
He shall be happy that can find him if 
Our grace can make him so. 

Bel. I never saw 

Such noble fury in so poor a thing ; 
Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought 
But beggary and poor looks. 

Cym. No tidings of him? 

Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead and 
living, 
But no trace of him. 

Cym. To my grief, I am 

The heir of his reward ; which I will add 
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, 

[To Belarius, Guiderius, and Art. 
By whom, I grant, she lives ; 'Tis now the time 
To ask of whence you are : — report it. 

Bel. Sir, 

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen : 
Further to boast, were neither true, nor modest, 
Unless I add, we are honest. 

Cym. Bow your knees • 

Arise, my knights o' the battle : 6 I create you 
Companions to our person, and will fit you 
With dignities becoming your estates. 

Eider Cornelius and Ladies. 
There's business in these faces. 7 — Why so sadly 
Greet you our victory ? you look like Romans, 
And not o' the court of Britain. 

Cor. Hail, great king ! 



5 ' In the scene before us, all the sir viving characters 
are assembled; and at the expense of whatever incon- 
gruity the former events may have been produced, per- 
haps little can be discovered on this occasion to offend 
the must scrupulous advocate for regularity : and as 
little is found wanting to satisfy the spectator by a catas- 
trophe which is intricate without confusion, and not 
more rich in ornament than nature.' — Steetoens. 

6 Thus in Sjowe's Chronicle, p. 164, edit. 1615:- 

' Philip of France made Arthur Plantagonet Knight of 
the Fielde.' 

7 So in Macbeth: — 

' The business of this man looks out of him 



S3S 



CYMBELINE. 



Act ?s 



To sour your happiness, I mus 1 repoit 
The queen is dead. 

Cym. Whom worse than a physician 

Would this report become? But I consider, 
Bv medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death 
Will seize the doctor too,' — How ended she ? 

Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life ; 
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded 
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd, 
I will report, so please you : These her women 
Can trip me, if I err : who, with wet cheeks, 
Were present when she finish'd. 

Cy7n. Pr'ythee, saj. 

Cor. First, she confess'd she never loy'd you ; 
only 
Affected greatness got by you, not you : 
Married your royalty, was wife to your place ; 
Abhorr'd your person. 

Cym. She alone knew this : 

And, but she spoke it dying, I would not 
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. 

Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand 2 to 
love 
With such integrity, she did confess 
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, 
But that her flight prevented it, she had 
Ta'en off by poison. 

Cym. O, most delicate fiend ! 

Who is't can read a woman ? — Is there more ! 
Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, 
she had 
For you a mortal mineral ; which, being took, 
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'rintr. 
By inches waste you : In which time she purpos'd, 
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to 
O'ercorne you with her show : yes, andin time 
(When she had fitted you with her craft,) to work 
Her son into the adoption of the crown. 
But failing of her end by his strange absence, 
Grew shameless desperate ; open'd, in despite 
Of heaven and men, her purposes ; repented 
The evils she hatch d were not etfected ; so 
Despairing, died. 

Cym. Heard you all this, her women '! 

Lady. We did, so please your highness. 
Cym. Mine eyes 

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful ; 
Mine ears, that heard her flattery ; nor my heart, 
That thought her like her seeming; it had been 

vicious, 
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! 
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say, 
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all ! 
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the Soothsayer, and other 
Roman Prisoners, guarded : Posthumus behind, 
and Imogen. 
Thou coms't not, Caius, now for tribute ; that 
The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss 
Of many a bold one ; whose kinsmen have made 

suit, 
That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter 
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted ; 
So, think of vour estate. 

Luc Consider, sir, 'the chance of war: the day 
Was yours by accident ; had it gone with us, 
We should not, when the blood was cool, have 

threaten'd 
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods 
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives 
May be call'd ransom, let it come : sufficeth, 
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer : 
Augustus lives to think on't : And so much 
For my peculiar care. This one thing only 
I will entreat ; My boy, a Briton born, 
Let him be ransom'd : never master had 
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, 
So tender over his occasions, true, 
So feat, 3 so nurselike : let his virtue join 



With my request, which, I'll make hold, your high- 
ness 
Cannot deny ; he hath done no Briton harm, 
Though he have serv'd a Roman : save him, sir, 
And spare no blood beside. 

Cym. I have surely seen him : 

His favour 4 is familiar to me.— 
Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into rny grace, 
And art mine own. — I know not why, nor wherefore, 
To say live, boy : 5 ne'er thank thy master ; live : 
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, 
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ; 
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, 
The noblest ta'en. 

Imo. I humbly thank your highness. 

Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad ; 
And yet, I know, thou wilt. 

Imo. No, no : alack, 

There's other work in hand : I see a thing 
Bitter to me as death : your life, good master, 
Must shuil'.e for itself. 

Luc. The boy disdains me, 

He leaves me, scorns me : Briefly die their joys, 
That place them on the truth of girls and boys. 
Why stands he so perplex'd '! 

Cym. What would'st thou, boy ? 

I love thee more and more ; think more and more 
What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on ? 

speak, 
Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin ? thy friend ? 

Imo. He is a Roman ; no more kin to me, 
Than I to your highness ; who, being born your 

vassal, 
Am something nearer. 

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so ? 

Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if yon please 
To give me hearing. 

Cym. Ay, with all my heart, 

And lend my best attention. What's thy name? 

Imo. Fidele, sir. 

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page ; 

I'll be thy master : Walk with me; speak freely. 
[Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart. 

Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death ? 

Arv. One sand another 

Not more resembles : That sweet rosy lad, 
Who died, and was Fidele: — What think you? 

Giri. The same dead thing alive. 

Bel. Peace, peace ! see further ; he eyes us not ; 
forbear ; 
Creatures may be alike : were't he, I am sure 
He would have spoke to us. 

Gui. But we saw him dead, 

Bel. Be silent ; let's see further. 

Pis. It is my mistress : f Aside. 

Since she- is living, let the time run on, 
To good, or bad. 

[Cymbeline and Imogen come forward. 

Cym. Come, stand thou by our side ; 

Make thy demand aloud. — Sir, [To Iach.] step 

you forth ; 
Give answer to this boy, and do it freelv ; 
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it, 
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall 
Winnow the truth from falsehood. — On, speak to 
him. 

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render 
Of whom he had this ring. 

Post. What's that to him ? 

[Aside. 
Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, 
How came it yours ? 

Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that 
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. 

Cym. How ! me ? 

Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that 
which 



1 This observation has already occurred in the Fune^ 
ral Song, p. 33-3 :— 

• The scepqre, learning, pfiysit, must 
AH follow this, and come to dust.' 



2 'To bear in hand' is 'to delude by false appear 
ances.' 

3 Feat is ready, dexterous. 4 Countenance. 

5 'I know not what should induce me to say, Jive, 
Doy.' The word nor was inserted by Rowe. 



Scene V. 



CYMBELINE. 



333 



Torments me to conceal. By villany 

I got this ring ; 'twas Leonatus' jewel ; 

Whom thou didst banish ; and (which more may 

grieve thee, 
As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 
'Twixt skv and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my 
ford? 
Cym. All that belongs to this. 
Iach. That paragon, thy daughter, — 

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits 
Quail' to remember, — Give me leave; I faint. 
Cym. My daughter ! what s>{ her ? Renew thy 
strength : 
I had rather thou should'si Hve while nature will, 
Than die ere I hear more : strive man and speak. 

Iach. Upon a time (unhappy was the clock 
That struck the hour !) it was in Rome (accurs'd 
The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would 
Our viands had been poison'd ! or, at least, 
Those which I heav'd to headl) the good Post- 
humus, 
(What should I say ? he was too good to be 
Where ill men were ; and was the best of all 
Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, 
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy 
For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast 
Of him that best could speak : for feature, 2 laming 
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, 
Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition, 
A shop of all the qualities that man 
Loves womaa for; besides, that hook of wiving, 

Fairness which strikes the eye; 

Cym, I stand on fire ; 

Come to the matter. 

Jack. All too soon I shall, 

Unless thou woukPst grieve quickly. — This Post- 
humus 
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one 
That had a royal lover,) took his hint; 
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein 
He was as calm as virtue,) he began 
His mistress' picture ; which by his tongue being 

made, 
And then a mind put in't, either our brags 
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description 
Prov'd us unspeaking sots. 

Cym, Nay, nay, to the purpose. 

Iach. Your daughter's chastity — there it begins. 
He spake of her as 3 Dian had hot dreams, 
And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch! 
Made scruple of his praise ; and wager'd with him 
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore 
Upon his honour d finger, to attain 
In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring 
By hers and mine adultery : he, true knight, 
No lesser of her honour confident 
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; 
And would so, had it been a carbuncle 
Of Phoebus' wheel ; and might so safely, had it 
Been all the worth of his car. 4 Away to Britain 
Post I in this design : Well may you, sir, 
Remember me at court, where I was taught 
Of^your chaste daughter the wide difference 
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd 
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 
'Gan in your duller Britain operate 
Most vilely ; for my vantage, excellent; 
And to be brief, my practice so prevail'd, 
That I return'd with similar proof enough 
To make the noble Leonatus mad, 
By wounding his belief in her renown 
With tokens thus, and thus ; averring notes 5 
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet, 
(O, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks 



Of seoeC on her person, that he could not 
But ti.ir.k her bond of chastity quite crack'd, 
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon, 
Mothinks, I see him now, 

Past. Ay, so thou dost, 

( Corning forward. 
Italian fiend ! — Ah me, most credulous fool, 
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing 
That's due to all the villains past, in being, 
To come! — O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, 
Some upright justicer ! 6 Thou, king, send out 
For tenures ingenious: it is I 
That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend 
By being worse than they. I am Posihumus, 
That kill'd thy daughter : — villain like, I lie ; 
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself 
A sacrilegious thief, to do't : — the temple 
Of virtue was she ; yea, and she herself. 7 
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set 
The dogs o' the street to bay me : every villain 
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus ; and 
Be villany less than 'twas ! — O, Imogen ! 
My queen, my life, my wife! 0, Imogen, 
Imogen, Imogen ! 

Imo. Peace, my lord ; hear, hear 

Post. Shall's have a play of this ? Thou scornful 
page, 
There lie thy part. [Striking her ; she falls. 

Pis. O, gentlemen, help, help, 

Mine, and your mistress : — O, my lord Posthumus ! 
You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now: — Help, help! — 
Mine honour'd lady ! 

Cym. Does the world go round ? 

Post. How comes these staggers 3 on me ? 

Pis. Wake, my mistress ! 

Cym, If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me 
To death with mortal joy. 

Pis. How fares my mistress ? 

Imo. O, get thee from my sight ; 
Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence ! 
Breathe not where princes are. 

Cym. The tune of Imogen ! 

Pis. Lady, 
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if 
That box I gave you was not thought by me 
A precious thing ; I had it from the queen. 

Cym. New matter still ? 

Imo. It poison'd me. 

Cor. O, gods . 

I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, 
Which must approve thee honest : If Pisanio 
Have, said she, given his mistress that confection 
Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd 
As I would serve a rat. 

Cym. What's this, Cornelius' 

Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me 
To temper 9 poisons for her ; still pretending 
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only 
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs 
Of no esteem : I, dreading that her purpose 
Was of more danger, did compound for her 
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease 
The present power of life : but, in short time, 
All offices of nature should again 
Do their due functions. — Have you ta'en of it? 

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. 

Bel. My boys, 

There was our error. 

Gui. This is sure, Fidele. 

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from 
you ? 
Think, that you are upon a rock ; and now 
Throw me again. 10 [Embracing him. 



1 To quail, is to faint, or sink into dejection. 

2 Feature is here used for proportion. 

3 Jls for as if So in The Winter's Tale :-- 

' he utters them as he had eaten ballads.' 

4 ' He had deserved it, were it carbuncled 
Like Phoebus' car.' Jlntony and Cleopatra. 

5 i. e. such marks of the chamber and pictures, as 
averred or confirmed my report. 

6 Justicer was anciently used instead of justice. — 



Shakspeare has the word thrice in King Lear. And 
Warner, in his Albion's England, 1602, b. x. ch. 45 :- • 
' Precelling his progenitors, a justicer upright.' 
7 ' Not only the temple of virtue, but virtue herself- 
S i. e. this wild and delirious perturbation. It is still 
common to say ' it stagger'd me,' when we have been 
moved by any sudden emotion of surprise. 
9 Mix, compound. 

10 Imogen comes up to Posthumus as soon as she 
knows thai the error is cleared up ; and, hanging fondly 



340 



CYMBELINE. 



Act f 



Pou, Hang there like fruit, my soul, 
Till the tree die ! ■ 

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child ? 

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act 1 
Wilt thou not speak to me? 

Jmo. Your blessing, sir, 

[Kneeling. 

Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye 
not ; 
You had a motive for't. [To Gin. and Akt. 

Cym. My tears that fall, 

Prove holy water on thee ! Imogen, 
Thy mother's dead. 

Jmo. I am sorry for't, my lord. 

Cym. O, she was naught : and 'long of her it was, 
That we meet here so strangely : But her son 
Is gone, we know not how, nor where. 

Pis. My lord r 

Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, 
Upon my lady's missing, came to me 
With his sword drawn ; foam'd at the mouth, and 

swore, 
If I discover'd not which way she was gone, 
It was my instant death : By accident, 
I had a feigned letter of my master's 
Then in my pocket ; which directed him 
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford ; 
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, 
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts 
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate 
My lady's honour : what became of him, 
I further know not. 

Gui. Let me end the story ; 

I slew him there. 

Cym. Marry, the gods forefend ! 

I would not thy good deeds should from my lips 
Pluck a hard sentence : pr'ythee, valiant youth, 
Deny't again. 

Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. 

Cym. He was a prince. 

Gui. A most uncivil one : The wrongs he did me 
Were nothing princelike ; for he did provoke me 
With language that would make me spurn the sea, 
If it could roar so to me ; I cut off's head ; 
And am right glad, he is not standing here 
To tell this tale of mine. 

Cym. I am sorry for thee : 

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must 
Endure our law : Thou art dead. 

Imo. That headless man 

I thought had been my lord. 

Cym. Bind the offender, 

And take him from our presence. 

Bel. Stay, sir king : 

This man is better than the man he slew, 
As well descended as thyself; and hath 
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens 
Had ever scar for. — Let his arms alone ; 

[To the Guard. 
They were not born for bondage. 

Cym. Why, old soldier, 

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, 
By tasting of our wrath? 1 How of descent 
As good as we ? 



on him, says, not as upbraiding him, but with kindness 
ami good humour, : How could you treat your wife thus ?' 
in that endearing tone which most readers, who are 
fa hers ami husband", will understand, who will add 
poor so wife. She then adds, Now you know who I 
am, suppose we were on the edge of a precipice, and 
throw me from you ; meaning, in the same endearing 
irony, to say, I am sure it is as impossible for you to be 
intentionally unkind to me, as it is for you to kill me. 
Perhaps some very wise persons may smile at part of 
this note : but however much black-letter books may be 
necessary to elucidate some parts of Shakspeare, there 
are others which require some acquaintance with those 
familiar pages of the book of Nature : 

' Which learning may not understand, 

And wisdom may disdain to hear.' Pye. 

1 The consequence is taken for the whole action ; by 
tasting is by furring us to make thee to taste. 

2 As there is no reason to imagine that Belarius had 
assumed the appearance of being older than he really 



Arv. In that he spake too far. 

Cym. And thou shalt die for't. 

Bel. We will die all three* : 

But I will prove, that two of us are as good 
As I have given out him. — My sons, I must, 
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, 
Though, haply, well for you. 

Arv. Your danger is 

Ours. 

Gui. And our good his. 

Bel. Have at it, then. — 

By leave ; — Thou hadst, great king, a subject, whff 
Was call'd Belarius. 

Cym. What of him ? he is 

A banish'd traitor. 

Bel. He it is, that hath 

Assuwi'd this age : 2 indeed, a banish'd man ; 
I know not how, a traitor. 

Cym. Take him hence ; 

The whole world shall not save him. 

Bel. Not too hot j 

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons ; 
And let it be confiscate all so soon 
As I have receiv'd it. 

Cym. Nursing of my sons ? 

Bel. I am too blunt and saucy : Here's my knee ; 
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons ; 
Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, 
These two young gentlemen, that call me father. 
And think they are my sons, are none of mine ; 
Thev are the issue of your loins, my liege, 
And blood of your begetting. 

Cym. How ! my issue ? 

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, 
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : 
Your pleasure was my mere offence,' my punish- 
ment 
Itself, and all my treason ; that I suffer'd, 
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes 
(For such, and so they are) these twenty year 
Have I train'd up : those arts they have, as I 
Could put into them ; my breeding was, sir, as 
Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, 
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children 
Upon my banishment : I mov'd her to't; 
Having receiv'd the punishment before, 
For that which I did then : Beaten for loyalty 
Excited me to treason : Their dear loss, 
The more of you 'twas fell, the more it shap'd 
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, 
Here are your sons again ; and I must lose 
Two of the sweet'st companions m the world: — , 
The benedictions of these covering heavens 
Fall on their heads like dew ! for they are worthy 
To inlay heaven with stars. 4 

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st 8 

The service, that you three have done, is more 
Unlike than this thou tell'st : I lost my children; 
If these be they, I know not how to wish 
A pair of worthier sons. 

Bel. Be pleas'd a while. — 

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, 
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius j 
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, 
Your younger princely son ; he, sir, was lapp'd 
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand 



was, it must have a reference to the different appearance 
which he now makes in comparison with that when 
Cymbeline last saw him. 

3 The old copy reads '■rttere offence ;'' the emenda- 
tion is by Mr. Tyrwhilt. Belarius means to say 'My 
crime, my punishment, and all the treason that I com- 
mitted, originated in, and were founded on, your caprice 
only.' 

4 ' Take him and cut him into little stars, 

And he will make the face of /teamen so fine,' Skc. 
Romeo and Juliet. 

5 ' Thy tears give testimony to the sincerity of thy 
relation ; and I have the less reason to be incredulous / 
because the actions which you have done within my 
knowledge are more incredible than the story which 
you relate' The king reasons very justly — John- 
son. 



SCEHK V. 



CYMBELINE. 



Ml 



Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, 
I can with ease produce. 

Cym. Guiderius had 

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star: 
It was a mark of wonder. 

BeL This is he ; 

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp; 
It was wise nature's end in the donation, 
To be his evidence now. 

Cym. Q, what am I 

A mother to the birth of three ? Ne'er mother 
Rejoic'd deliverance more : — Bless'd may you be, 
That after this strange starting from your orbs, 
You may reign in them now! — O, Imogen, 
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. 

Ims. No, my lord ; 

I have get two worlds by't. — O, my gentle brother, 
Have we thus met ? O, never say hereafter, 
But I am truest speaker : you call'd me brother, 
When I was but your sister ; I you brothers, 
When you were so indeed. 

Cym. Did you e'er meet ? 

Arv. Ay, my good lord. 

GuL And at first meeting lov'J ; 

Continued so, until we thought he died. 

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. 

Cym. O, rare instinct ! 

When shall I hear all through? This fierce 1 abridg- 
ment 
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which 
Distinction should be rich in. 2 — Where? how Iiv'd 

you? 
And when came you to serve our Roman captive ? 
How parted with your brothers ? hew first met 

them ? 
Why fled you from the court ? and whither ? These, 
And your three motives 3 to the battle, with 
I know not how much more, should be demanded ; 
And all the other by-dependencres, 
From chance to chance ; but »or the time, nor 

place, 
Will serve our long intergatories.* See, 
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen ; 
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye 
On him, her brothers, me, her master ; hitting 
Each object with a joy ; the counterchange 
2s severally in alL Let's quit this ground, 
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. — > 
Thou art my brother ; So we'll hold thee ever. 

[To Belarius. 

Imo. You are my father too 7 and did relieve me, 
To see this gracious season. 

Cym. All o'erjoy'd 

Save these in bonds ; let them be joyful too, 
For they shall taste our eorufort. 

Imo. My good master, 

1 will yet do you service. 

Luc. Happy be you ! 

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, 
He would have well becom'd this place, and grae'd 
The thankings of a king. 

Post. I am, sir, 

The soldier that did company these three 
Sn po^or beseeming; 'twas a fitment for 



1 Fierce is vehement, rapid. 

2 i. e. which ought to be rendered distinct by an ample 
narrative. 

3 ' Your three motives' means ' the motives of you 
three.' So in Romeo and Juliet, 'both our remedies' 
means 'the remedy for us both.' 

4 Intergatories was frequently used for interrogato- 
ries, and consequently as a word of only five syllables. 
In The Merchant of Venice, near the end, it is also thus 
used : — 

' And charge us there upon intergatories. 41 

5 Spritely shows are groups of sprites, ghostly ap- 
pearances. 

6 A collection is a corollary, a consequence deduced 
from premises. So iu Bavies's poem on The Immor- 
tality of the Soul :— 

' When she from sundry arts one skill doth draw ; 

Gath'ring from divers sights one act of war; 
From many cases like one rule of law : 

Xfeese hex collections, not the senses are.' 



The purpose I then follow'd ; — Thai I was he, 
Speak, Iachimo ; I had you down, and might 
Have made you finish. 

lack. I am down attain : [Kneeling 

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, 
As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech 

T "y° u » 

Which I so often owe : but, your ring first 
And here the bracelet of the truest princess, 
That ever swore her faith. 

Post. Kneel not to me ; 

The power that I have on you, is to spare you ; 
The malice towards you, to forgive you : Live, 
And deal with others better. . 

Cym. Nobly doom'd : 

We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law ; 
Pardoa's the word to alL 

Arv. You holp us, sir, 

As you did mean indeed to be our brother ; 
Joy'd are we, that you are. 

Post. Your servant, princes. — Good my lord of 
Rome, 
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought, 
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, 
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows* 
Of mine own kindred : when I wak'd, I found 
This label on my bosom ; whose containing 
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can 
Make no collection 6 of it ; let him 6how 
His skill in the construction. 

Luc. Philarmonus, 

Sooth. Here, my good lord. 

Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. 

Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to 
himself unknown, without seeking find, and be em- 
braced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a 
stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being 
dead many years shall after revive, be jointed to the 
old stock, and freshly grow ; then shall Posthumus 
end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in 
peace and plenty. 

Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's wlielp ; 
The fit and apt construction of thy name, 
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much : 
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, 

[To Cymbeline. 
Which we call mollis aer ; and mollis aer 
We term it mulier : which mulier I divine, 
Is this most constant wife : who, even now, 
Answering the letter of the oracle, 
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about 
With this most tender air. 

Cym. This hath some seeming. 

Sooth The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, 
Personates thee ; and thy lopp'd branches point 
Thy two sons forth : who, by Belarius stolen, 
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, 
To the majestic cedar join'd ; whose issue 
Promises Britain peace and plenty- 

Cym. Well, 

My peace we will begin :' — And, Caius Lucius, 
Although the victor, we submit to Caesar, 
And to the Roman empire ; promising 
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which 
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen ; 
Whom heavens, in justice (both on her and hers,) 
Have laid most heavy hand. 8 

So the Queen in Hamlet says : — 

' Her speech is nothing. 

Yet the unsnaped use of it doth move 
The hearers to collection.'' 

Whose containing means the contents of which. 

7 It should apparently be, ' By peace we will begin. 
The Soothsayer says, that the label promised to Britain 
' peace and plenty.' To which Cymbeline replies, ' We 
will begin with peace, to fulfil the prophecy.' 

8 i. e. have laid most heavy hand on. Many such 
elliptical passages are found in Shakspeare. Thus in 
The Rape of Lucrece : — 

' Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, 
And dotes on whom he looks [on] gainst law and duty.' 
So in The Winter's Tale :— 

' The queen is spotless 

in that which you accuse hex [oj] » 



312 



IITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune 
The harmony of this peace. Tho vision 
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke 
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 
[s full accomphsh'd : For the Roman eagle, 
From south to west on wing soaring aloft, 
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun 
So vanish'd : which foreshow'd our princely eagle, 
The imperial Cassar, should again unite 
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, 
Which shines here in the west. 

Cym. Laud we the gods ; 

And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils 
From our bless'd altars ! Publish we this peace 
To all our subjects. Set we forward : Let 
A Roman and a British ensign wave 
Friendly together : so through Lud's town march : 
And in the temple of great Jupiter 
Our peace we'il ratify : seal it with feasts. — 
Set on there : — Never was a war did cease, 
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace-. 

I ' runt. 



THIS play has many just sentiments, some natural 
dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are 
obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To re- 
mark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, 
the confusion of the names and manners of different 
times, and the impossibility of the events in any system 
cf life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbe- 
cility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross 
for aggravation.* JOHNSON. 



* Johnson's remark on the gross incongruity of names 
and manners in this play is just, hut it was the common 
error of the age; in The Wife for a Month, of Beau- 
mont and Fletcher, we have Frederick and Alphonso 
among a host of Greek names, not to mention the firing 
of a pistol by Demetrius Poliocortes in The Humorous 
lieutenant. — Pye. 

It is hardly necessary to point out the extreme injus- 



A SONG, 

SUNG BY GUIDERJUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER 1FS» 
DELE, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD. 

BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. 

To fair Fidele's granny tomb, 

Soft main's and village hinds shall bring 
Each ripening sweet, of earliest bloom, 

And rifle all the breathing spring. 
No wailing ghost shall dare appear 

To vex with shrieks this quiet grove ," 
But shepherd latls assemble here, 

And melting virgins own their love. 

No wither' 'd witch shall here be seen, 

No goblins lead their nightly crew : 
The female fays shall haunt the green, 

And dress tliy grave with pearly dew. 
The redbreast oft at evening hours 

Shall kindly lend his little aid, 
JVith hoary ?noss, and gather 'a I flowers, 

To deck the ground where thou art laid. 
When howling winds, and beating rain, 

In tempests shake the sylvan cell. 
Or midst the chase on every plain, 

The tender thought cm thee shall dwell. 
£arh lonely scene shall thee restore ,* 

For thee the tear be duly shed ; 
Helov'd till life could charm no more ; 

And monrn'd till pity , s self be dearl. 



ticeof the unfounded severity of Johnson's animadver 
sions upon this exquisite drama. The antidote will be- 
found in the reader's appeal lo his own feelings after 
reiterated perusal. It is with satisfaction I refer to the; 
more just and discriminative opinion of a foreign critie,. 
to whom every lover of Shakspeare is deeply indebted!, 
cited in the preliminary remarks. S. W. S. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 



(~)N what principle the editors of the first complete 
" edition of Shakspeare's works admitted this play 
.nto their volume, cannot now be ascertained. The 
most probable reason that can be assigned is, that he 
wrote a few lines in it, or gave some assistance to the 
author in revising it, or in some way or other aided in 
bringing it tin-ward on the stage. The tradition men- 
. ioned by llavenscrofe, in the time of King Jarnes 11., 
warrants us in making one or other of these supposi- 
tions. ' I have been told (says lit-, in his preface to an 
alteration of this play, published in 1687,) by some 
anciently conversant with the stage, that it was not 
originally his, but brought by a private author to be 
acted, and he only gave some master touches to ons or 
two of the principal parts.' 

' A booke, entitled A Noble Roman Historie of Tims 
Andronicus,' was entered at Stationers' Hall, by John 
Danter, Feb. 6, 1593-^.' This was undoubtedly the 
play, as it was printed in that year (according to Lang- 
baine, who alone appears to have seen the first edition,) 
and acted by the servants of the Earls of Pembroke, 
Derby, and Sussex. It is observable that in ihe entry 
no author's name is mentioned, and that the play was 
originally performed by the same company of eome- 
dians who exhibited the old drama, entitled The- Con- 
tention of the Houses of Yorke ana Lancaster, The old 
Taming of a Shrew, and Marlowe's King Edward II. ; 
by whom not one of Shakspeare's plays is said to have 
been performed. 

From Ben Jonson's Induction to Bartholomew Fair, 
1614, we learn that Andronicus had been exhibited 
twenty-five or thirty years before ; that is, according to 
the lowest computation, in 1589 - or, taking a middle 
period, which is perhaps more just, in 1587. 

' To enter into a long disquisition to prove this piece 
not to have been written by Shakspeare would be an 
idle waste of time. To those who are not conversant 
with bis writings, if particular passages were ex- 



amined, more words would be necessary than the sub 
ject is worth ; those who are well acquainted with his 
works cannot entertain a doubt on the question. I will, 
however, mention one mode by which it may be easily 
ascertained. Let the reader only peruse a tew lines of 
Appius and Virginia, Tancreil and Gietuund, The Bat- 
tle of Alcazar, Jeronimo, Selimus Emperor of the 
Turks, The Wounds of Civil War, The Wars of Cy- 
rus, Locrine, Arden of Feversham, King Edward 1., 
The Spanish Tragedy, Solyrnan and Perseda, King 
Leir, the old King John, or any other of the pieces thaS 
were exhibited before the time of Shakspeare, and he 
will at once perceive that Titus Andronicus was coined 
in the same mint. 

' The testimony of Mercs, [who attributes it to Shak- 
speare in his Paliadis Tainia, or the Second Part of 
Wits Common Wealth, 159S,] remains to be considered. 
His enumerating this among Shakspeare's plays may 
be accounted for in the same way in which we may ac- 
count for its being printed by his fellow comedians irj 
the first folio edition of his works. Meres was, in 1598, 
when his book first appeared, intimately connected with 
Drayton, and probably acquainted with some of the 
dramatic poets of the lime, from some or other of whom 
he might have heard that Shakspeare interested him- 
self about this tragedy, or had written a few lines for 
the author. The internal evidence furnished by the 
piece itself, and proving it not to have been the produc- 
tion of Shakspeare, greatly outweighs any single testi- 
mony on the other side. Meres might ha/e been mis- 
informed, or inconsiderately have given credit to the 
rumour of the day. In short, the high antiquity of the 
piece, its entry on the Stationers' books, and being 
afterwards printed without the name of Shakspeare, its 
being performed by the servants of Lord Pembroke, 
&c. ; the stately march of the versification, the whole 
colour of the composition, its resemblance to several ot 
our most ancient dramas, the dissimilitude of the styla 



Scene. I. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



343 



from oar author's undoubted plays, and the tradition 
mentioned by Ravenscroft when some of bis conteaa- 
poraries had not tong been dead (lor Lpwin and Taylor, 
two of his fellow comedians, were aiive a few years be- 
fore the Restoration, and SirWm. Davenantdid not die 
till April, 1603 ;) all these circumstances combined, 
prove with irresistible force that the play of Titus 
Andronicus has been erroneously ascribed to Shak- 
speare.'— Malum: 

• Mr. Maione, in the preceding note, has expressed 
his opinion that Shakspeare may have written a few 
lines in this play, or given some assistance to the au- 
thor in revising k. Upon no other ground than this has 
it any claim to a place among our poet's dramas: 
Those passages in which he supposed the hand of 
Shakspeare may be traced, he marked with inverted 
commas. This system of seizing upon every line pos- 
sessed of merit, as belonging of right to our great dra- 
matist, is scarcely doing justice to his contemporaries ; 
and resembles one of the arguments which Theobald 
lias used in his preface to The Double Falsehood : — 
" My partiality for Shakspeare makes me wish that 
every thing which is good or pleasing in our tongue 
had "been owing to his pen." Many of the writers of 
that day were men of high' poetical talent ; and many 
individual speeches are found in plays, which, as plays, 
are of no value, which would not have been in any way 
unworthy of Shakspeare himself; of whom, Dr. John- 
son has observed, that "his real power is not shown in 
the splendour of particular passages, but by the pro- 
gress of the fable and the tenour of his dialogue ; and 
Chat he that tries to recommend him by select quota- 
tions will succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, 
when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his 
pocket as a specimen." Dr. Farmer has ascribed Titus 
Andronicus to Kyd, and placed it on a level with Lo- 
crine ; but it appears to be much more in the style of 
Marlowe. His fondness for accumulating horrors upon 
other occasions, will account for the sanguinary cna- 
racter of this play ; and it would not, 1 think, be diffi- 
cult to show by extracts from his other performances, 
that there is not a line in it which he was not fully 
capable pf writing.' — Boswell. 

' The author, whoever he was, might have borrowed 
the story, &c. from an old ballad which is entered in 
the books of the Stationers' Company immediately 
after the play to John Danter, Feb. 6, J593 : and again 
entered to Tho. Pavyer, April 19, 1602. The reader 
will find it in Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English 
Poetry, vol. i. Painter, in his Palace of Pleasure, torn, 
ti. speaks of the story of Titus as well known, and par- 
.tcularly mentions the cruelty of Tamora. And there 
;s an allusion to it in A Knack to Know a Knave, 1594. 

' I have given the reader a specimen (in the notes) 
of the changes made in this play by Ravenscroft; and 
may add, that when the Empress stabs her child, he 
has supplied the Moor with the following lines : — 



" She has undone me, ev'n in mine own art, 
Outdone me in murder, kili'd her own child ; 
Give it me, I'll eat it." 
' It rarely happens that a dramatic piece is altered 
with the same spirit that it was written ; but Titus An- 
dronicus has undoubtedly fallen into the hands of one 
whose feelings and imagination were congenial with 
those of the author. 

' It was evidently the work of one who was acquainted 
with Greek and Roman literature. It is likewise de- 
ficient in such internal marks as distinguish the trage- 
dies of Shakspeare from those of other writers ; I mean 
that it presents no struggles to introduce the vein of 
humour so constantly interwoven with the business of 
his serious dramas. It can neither boast of his striking 
excellencies, nor of his acknowledged defects; for it 
offers not a single interesting situation, a natural cha- 
racter, or a string of quibbles, from first to last. That 
Shakspeare should have written without commanding 
our attention, moving our passions, or sporting with 
words, appears to me as improbable as that he should 
have studiously avoided dissyllable and trisyllable ter- 
minations in this play and in no other. 

'Let it be likewise remembered that this piece was 
not published with the name of 'Shakspeare till after 
his death. The quartos [of 1600] and 1611 are anony- 
mous. 

' Could the use of particular terms, employed in no 
other of his pieces, be admitted as an argument that he 
was not Us author, more than one of these might be 
found ; among which is palliament for robe, a Latinism, 
which I have not met with elsewhere in any English 
writer, whether ancient or modern ; though it must have 
originated from the mint of a scholar. I may add, that 
Titus Andronicus will be found on examination to con- 
tain a greater number of classical allusions, &c. than 
are scattered over all the rest of the performances on 
which the seal of Shakspeare is indubitably fixed. — 
Not to write any more about and about this suspected 
thing, let me observe, that the glitter of a few passages 
in it has, perhaps, misled the judgment of those who 
ought to have known that both sentiment and descrip- 
tion are more easily produced than the interesting 
fabric of a tragedy. Without these advantages many 
plays have succeeded ; and many have failed, in which 
they have been dealt about with lavish profusion. It 
does not follow that he who can carve a frieze with 
minuteness, elegance, and ease, has a conception equal 
to the extent, propriety, and grandeur of a temple. 

'Whatever were the motives of Heming and Condell 
for admitting this tragedy among those of Shakspeare, 
all it has gained by their favour is, to be delivered down 
to posterity with repeated remarks of contempt — a 
Therskes babbling among heroes, and introduced only 
to be derided.' — Steevens. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



Saturninus, Son to the late Emperor of Rome, and 

afterwards declared Emperor himself. 
Bassi anus, Brother to Saturainus ; in love with La- 

vinia. 
Titus Andronicus, a noble Roman, General 

against the Goths. 
Marcus Andronicus, Tribune ef the People; and 

Brother to Titus. 
Lucius, ~) 

jr T 'V Sons to Titus Andronicus. 

Martius, I 

Mutius, j 

Young Lucius, a Boy, Son to Lucius. 

Puelius, Son to Marcus the Tribune. 

JRmilivs, a noble Roman. 



Alarbus, 3 

Chiron, > Sons to Tamora. 

Demetrius, \ 

Aaron, a Moor, beloved by Tamora. 
A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown ; Ro- 
mans. 
Goths and Romans. 

Tamora, Queen of the Goths. 
Lavinia, Dauglner to Titus Andronicus. 
A Nurse, and a Black Child. 

Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers,. 
Soldiers and Attendants. 

SCENE — Rome; and the Country near it. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. The 
Tomb of the Andronici appearing ; the Tribunes 
and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, be- 
low, Saturninus and his Followers, on one side • 
and Bassianus and his Followers on the other; 
vrith Drum and Colours. 

Saturninus. 
Noble patricians, patrons of my right, 
Defend the justice of my cause with arms ; 



And, countrymen, my loving followers, 
Plead my successive title 1 with your swords: 
I am his first-born son, that was the last 
That ware the imperial diadem of Rome ; 
Then let my father's honours live in me, 
Nor wrong mine age 2 with this indignity. 



1 i. e. my title to the succession. ' The empire being 
elective and not successive, the emperors in being made 
profit of their own times.' — Raleigh. 

2 Saturninus means his seniority in point of age. In 



sw 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Act 1. 



lias. Romans, — friends, followers, favourers of 
my right, — 
If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, 
W ere gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, 
Keep then this passage to the Capitol ; 
And suffer not dishonour to approach 
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, 
To justice, continence, and nobility : 
But let desert in pure election shine ; 
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. 
Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft, with the Crown. 

Mar. Princes that strive by factions, and by 
friends, 
Ambitiously for rule and empery, — 
Know, that the people of Rome, for whom we stand 
A special party, have, by common voice, 
In election for the Roman empery, 
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius, 
For many good and great deserts to Rome ; 
A nobler man, a braver warrior, 
Lives not this day within the city walls: 
He by the senate is accited' home, 
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths ; 
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, 
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms. 
Ten years are spent, since first he undertook 
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms 
Our enemies' pride : Five times he hath relurn'd 
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons 
In coffins from the field ; 
And now at last, laden with honour's spoils, 
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, 
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. 
Let us entreat, — By honour of his name, 
Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed, 
And in the Capitol and senate's right, 
Whom you pretend to honour and adore, — 
That you withdraw you, and abate your strength ; 
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, 
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. 

Sal. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my 
thoughts • 

Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy 
In thy uprightness and integrity, 
And so I love arid honour thee and tnine, 
Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons, 
And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, 
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, 
That I will here dismiss my loving friends ; 
And to my fortunes, and the people's favour, 
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. 

[Exeunt the Followers of Bassjanus. 

Sat. Friends that have been thus forward in my 
right, 
I thank you all, and here dismiss you all ; 
And to the love and favour of my country 
Commit myself, my person, and the cause. 

[Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus. 
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me, 
As I am confident and kind to thee. — 
Open the gates, and let me in. 

Bas. Tribunes ! and me, a poor competitor 
[Sat. and Bas. go into the Capitol, and exeunt 
with Senators, Marcus, 8/-c. 
SCENE II. The same. Enter a Captain, and 
others. 

Cap. Romans, make way ; the good Andronicus, 
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, 
Successful in the battles that he fights, 
With honour and with fortune is return'd, 
From where he circumscribed with his sword, 
And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome. 
MourUh of Trumpets, <$-c. Enter Mutius and 

Martius ; after them two Men bearing a Coffin 

covered with black ; then Quintus and Lucius. 

After them, Titus Andronicus ; and then Ta- 



a subsequent passage Tainora speaks of him as a very 
SKmng man. 

1 Summoned. 

2 Jupiter, to whom the Capitol was sacred. 

3 Earthy. Ed 160.0. 



mora, with Alarbus, Chiron. Demetrius, 
Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners ; Soldiers ana 
People following. The Bearers set down the Cof- 
fin, and Titus speaks. 

Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning 
weeds J 
Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught, 
Returns with precious lading to the bay, 
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, 
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, 
To re-salute his country with his tears ; 
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. — 
Thou great defender of this Capitol, 2 
Stand gracious to the rights that we intend I- 
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, 
Half of the number that king Priam had, 
Behold the poor remains alive, and dead ! 
These, that survive, let Rome reward with love; 
These that I bring unto their latest home, 
With burial amongst their ancestors : 
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my 

sword. 
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, 
Why sutfer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, 
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx ? — 
Make way to lay them by their brethren. 

[The Tomb is opened. 
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, 
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars! 
O, sacred receptacle of my joys, 
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, 
How many sons of mine hast thou in store, 
That thou wilt never render to me more? 

Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of ihe Goths,, 
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile, 
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice, his flesh, 
Before this earthly 3 prison of their bones ; 
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd, 
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth." 

Tt. \ give him you ; the noblest that survives, 
The eldest son of this distressed queen. [queror, 

Tarn. Stay, Roman brethren; — Gracious con- 
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, 
A mother's tears in passion 5 for her son : 
And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
O, think my son to be as dear to me. 
Sufficed) not, that we are brought to Rome, 
To beautify thy triumphs, and return, 
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke ; 
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, 
For valiant doings in their country's cause? 
O! if to fight for king and commonweal 
Were piety in thine, it is in these. 
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood : 
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods 7 
Draw near them then in being merciful : 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge ; 
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son. 

Tit. Patient 6 yourself, madam, and pardon me. 
These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld 
Alive, and dead ; and for their brethren slain, 
Religiously they ask a sacrifice : 
To this your son is mark'd ; and die he must, 
To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. 

Luc. Away with him ! and make a fire straight ; 
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, 
Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd. 

[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, an<l 
Mutius, with Alarbus. 

Tom. O, cruel, ii religious piety I 

Chi. Was ever Scvthia half so barbarous ? 

Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. 
Alarbus goes to rest ; and we survive 
To tremble under Titus' threatening .Jr.et. 
Then, madam, stand resolv'd ; but hope withal, 
The selfsame gods, that arm'd me queer of Troy 

4 It was supposed that the ghosls of unburied people 
appeared to solicit the rites of funeral. 

5 i. e. in grief. 

6 This verb is used by other old dramatic writers. 
Thus in Arden of Feversham, 1592 : — 

' Patient yourself, we cannot help it now » 



Scene II. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



345 



With opportunity of sharp revenge 
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, 1 
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths, 
(When Golhs were Goths, and Tamora was queen,) 
To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. 
He-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and Mu- 
tius, with their Swords bloody. 

Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd 
Our Roman rites : Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, 
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, 
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. 
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, 
And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome. 

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus 
Make this his latest farewell to their souls. 

['Trumpets sounded, and the Coffins laid in 
the Tomb. 
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons ; 
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, 
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps ! 
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, 
Here grow no damned grudges ; here are no storms, 
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep : 

Enter Lavinia. 
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons ! 

Lav. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long : 
My noble lord and father, live in fame ' 
Lo! at this tomb my tributary tears 
I render, for my brethren's obsequies : 
And at thy feet I kneel with tears ofjoy 
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome : 
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, 
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud. 

Tit. Kind Rome, thou hast thus lovingly reserv'd 
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! — 
Lavinia, live ; outlive thy father's days, 
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise ! 2 
Enter Marcus Andronicus, Saturninus, Bas- 
sianus, and others. 

Mar. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, 
Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! 

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Mar- 
cus. 

Mar. And welcome, nephews, from successful 
wars, 
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. 
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, 
That in your country's service drew your swords : 
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, 
That hath aspir d to Solon's happiness, 3 
And triumphs over chance, in honour's bed.— 
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, 
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, 
Send thee by me, their tribune, and their trust, 
This palliament 4 of white and spotless hue ; 
And name thee in election for the empire, 
With these our late deceased emperor's sons : 
Be candidatus then, and put it on, 
And help to set a head on headless Rome. 

Til. A better head her glorious body fits, 
Than his, that shakes for age and feebleness : 
What? should I don 6 this robe, and trouble you? 
Be chosen with proclamations to-day ; . »• 
To-morrow, yield up rule resign my life, 
And set abroad new business for you all ? 
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, 
And buried one and twenty valiant sons, 
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, 
In right and service of their noble country: 
Give me a staff of honour for mine age, 
But not a sceptre to control the world : 
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. 



1 Theobald says that we should read, 'in herXjentf 
i e. in the letil where she and the other Trojan women 
were kept ; lor thither Hecuba by a wile had decoyed 
Polymnestor, in order to perpetrate her revenge. Stee- 
vens objects to Theobald's conclusion, that the writer 
gleaned this circumstance from the Hecuba or Euri- 
pides, and says, ' he may have been misled by the pas- 
sage in Ovid — " vadit ad artificem. ;" and therefore took 
it for granted she found him in his lenW Yet on an- 

2 T 



Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. 

Sal. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou 
tell ?— 

Tit. Patience, Prince Saturnine. 

Sat. Romans, do me right;— 

Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them not 
Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor : — 
Andronicus, 'would thou wertshipp'd to hell 
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts. 

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good 
That noble-minded Titus means to thee ! 

Tit. Content thee, prince ; I will restore to thee 
The people's hearts, and wean them from l hemselves. 

Box. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, 
But honour thee, and will do till I die ; 
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, 
I will most thankful be : and thanks, to men 
Of noble minds, is honourable meed. 

Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, 
I ask your voices, and your suffrages ; 
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus ? 

Trib. To gratify the good Andronicus, 
And gratulate his safe return to Rome, 
The people will accept whom he admits. 

Tit. Tribunes, I thank you : and this suit I make, 
That you create your emperor's eldest son, 
Lord Saturnine ; whose virtues will, I hope, 
Reflect on Rome, as Titan's rays ori earth, 
And ripen justice in this commonweal: 
Then if you will elect by my advice, 
Crown him, and say, — Long live our emperor ! 

Mar. With voices and applause of every sort, 
Patricians, and plebeians, we create 
Lord Saturninus, Rome's great emperor ; 
And say, — Long live our emperor Saturnine ! 

!A long Flourish, 
avours done 
To us in our election this day, 
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, 
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: 
And, for an onset, Titus, to advance 
Thy name, and honourable family, 
Lavinia will I make my emperess, 
Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart 
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse : 
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? 

Tit. It doth, my worthy lord ; and, in this match, 
I hold me highly honour'd of your grace : 
And here, in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, — 
King and commander of our commonweal, 
The wide world's emperor, — do I consecrate 
My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners ; 
Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord : 
Receive Xhfm, then, the tribute that I owe, 
Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. 

Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life ! 
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts, 
Rome shall record ; and, when I do forget 
The least of these unspeakable deserts, 
Romans, forget your fealty to me. 

Tit. Now, madam, are you prironer to an em- 
peror ; [To Tamora. 
To him, that for your honour and your state, 
Will use you nobly, and your followers. 

Sat. A goodly lady, trust me ; of the hue 
That I would choose, were I to choose anew. — 
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance ; 
Though chance of war hath wrought this change of 

cheer, 
Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome . 
Princely shall be thy usage every way. 
Rest on my word, and let not discontent 
Daunt all your hopes: Madam, he comforts you, 



other occasion he observes, that the writer has a pluin 
allusion to the Ajax of Sophocles, of which no transla 
tion was extant in the time of Shakspeare.' 

2 To ' outlive an eternal date' is, (hough.not philoso- 
phical, yet poetical sense. He wishes thai her life may 
be longer than his, and her praise longer than fame. 

3 The maxim alluded to is, that nc man can be pro- 
nounced happy before his death. 

4 A robe. 

5 i. e. do on, put it on. 



S4S 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Acr L 



Can make you greater than the queen of Goths. — 
Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this ? 

Lav. Not I, my lord; 1 sith true nobility 
Warrants these words in princely courtesy. 

Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. — Romans, let us go : 
Ransomless tiere we set our prisoners free : 
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. 

Bos. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. 
[Seizing Lavinia. 

Tit. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, nrylord? 

Bos. Ay, noble Titus ; and resolv'd withal 
To do myself this reason and this right. 

[ The Emperor courts Tamoka in dumb show. 

Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice : 
This prince in justice seizeth but his own. 

Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. 

Tit. Traitors, avaunt ! Where is the emperor's 
guard ? 
Treason, my lord ; Lavinia is surpris'd. 

8 at. Surpris'd ! By whom ? 

Bas. By him that justly may 

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. 

[Exeunt Marcus and Bassanius, with 
Lavinia. 

Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, 
And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. 

[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. 

Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. 

Mut. My lord, you pass not here. 

Til. What, villain boy ! 

Barr'st me my way in Rome! [Tit. hills Mut. 

Mut. Help, Lucius, help. 

Re-enter Lucius. 

Luc. My lord, you are unjust ; and, more than so, 
En wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. 

Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are. any sons of mine : 
My sons would never so dishonour me : 
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. 

Luc. Dead, if you will : but not to be his wife, 
That is'another's lawful promis'd love. [Exit. 

Sat. No, Titus, no ; the emperor needs her not, 
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of the stock: 
I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once ; 
Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, 
Confederates all thus to dishonour me. 
Was there none else in Rome to make a stale 2 of, 
But Saturnine ? Full well, Andronicus, 
Asree these deeds with that foul brag of thine, 
That said'st, I bajgg'd the empire at tliv hands. 

Tit. O, monstrous ! what reproachful words are 
these? 

Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that changing 
piece 
To him that flourished for her with his sword : 
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy ; 
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, 
To ruffle 3 in the commonwealth of Rome. 

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart. 

Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of 
Goths,— 
That, like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs, 
Dost overshine the gallant'st days of Rome, — 
If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice, 
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, 
And will create thee emperess of Rome. 
Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my 

choice ? 
And here I swear by all the Roman gods, — 



1 It was a pity to part a couple who seem to have 
corresponded in disposition so exactly as Saturninus and 
L.avinia. Saturninus, who has just promised to espouse 
her, already wishes he were to choose again ; and she 
who was engaged to Bassianus (whom she afterward 
marries) expresses no reluctance when her father gives 
her to Saturninus. Her subsequent raillery to Tamora 
is of so coarse a nature, that if her tongue had been all 
she was condemned to lose, perhaps the author (who- 
ever he was) might have escaped censure on the score 
of poetic justice.'— Steerens. 

2 A stale here signifies a stalking-horse. To make a 
stale of any one seems to have meant ' to make them 
ar. object of mockery.' 



Sith priest and hoiy water *re so near, 
And tapers burn so bright, and every thing 
In readiness for Hymeneus stand, — 
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, 
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place 
I lead espous'd my bride along with me. 

Tarn. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I 
swear, 
If Saturnine advance the queen of Goths, 
She will a handmaid be to his desires, 
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. 

Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon : — Lords, ac- 
company 
Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride, 
Sent by the heavens for prince Saturnine, 
Whose wisdom hath her lortune conquered : 
There shall we consummate our spousal rites. 

[Exeunt Saturninus, and his Followers; Ta- 
mora, and her Sons ; Aaron anil Goths. 

Tit. I am not bid 4 to wait upon this bride ; — 
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, 
Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? 

Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and 
Martius. 

Mar. O, Titus, see, O, see, what thou hast done , 
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. 

Til. No, foolish tribune, no ; no son of mine,- - 
Nor thou, nor these confederates in the deed 
That hath dishonour'd all our family ; 
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons ! 

Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes , 
Give Mutius burial with our brethren. 

Tit. Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb. 
This monument five hundred years hath stood, 
Which I have sumptuously re-edified: 
Here none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors, 
Repose in fame , none basely slain in brawls:— 
Bury him where you can, he comes not here. 

Mar. My lord, this is impiety in you : 
My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him ; 
He must be buried with his brethren. 

Quin. Mart. And shall, or him we will accom 
pany. 

Tit. And shall ! What villain was it spoke that 
word ? 

Quin. He that would vouch 't in any place but 
here. 

Tit. What, would you bury him in my despite? 

Mar. N'S noble Titus ; but entreat of thee 
To [lardon Mutius, and to bury him. 

Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, 
And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast 

wounded : 
My foes I do repute you every one ; 
So trouble me no more, but get you gone. 

Mart. He is not with himself: 5 let us withdraw. 

Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. 

[Marcus and the Sores of Titus kneel. 

Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead. 

Quin. Father,and in that name doth nature speak. 

Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. 

Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half rov soul,— 

Luc. Dear father, soul and substance of us all, — 

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter 
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, 
That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. 
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous. 
The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax 
That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son 
Did graciously plead for his funerals. 6 



3 To ruffle was to be tumultuous and turbulent. Thus 
Baret :— ' A trouble or ruffling in the common-weale ; 
procella.' 

4 i. e. invitod. 

5 ' He is not with himself.' This is much t.ie same 
sort of phrase as he is beside himself, a genuine 
English idiom. 

'6 This passage alone would sufficiently convince me 
that the play before us was the work of oue who was 
conversant with the Greek tragedies in their original 
language. We have here a plain allusion to the AjaJ 
of Sophocles, of which no translation was extant in the 



S.-EIVE II- 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



317 



Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy, 
Be barr'd his entrance here. 

Tit. Rise, Marcus, rise : — 

The dismal'st day is this, that e'er I saw, 
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome ! — 
Well, bury him, and bury me the next. 

[Mutius is put into the Tomb. 

Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with 
thy friends, 
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb !— 

All. No man shed tears for noble Mutius ; 
He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. 1 

Mar. My lord, — to step out of these dreary 
dumps, — 
How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths 
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome ? 

Tit. I know not, Marcus ; but, I know, it is ; 
Whether by device, or no, the heavens can tell : 
Is she not then beholden to the man 
That brought her for this high good turn so far? 
Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. 

Flourish. Re-enter, at one side, Saturninus, 
attended; Tamora, Chiron, Demetrius, and 
Aaron : at the other, Bassianus, Lavinia, 
and others. 

Sat. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize ; 2 
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride. 

Bos. And you of yours, my lord : I say no more, 
Nor wish no less ; and so I take my leave. 

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power, 
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. 

Bas. Rape, call you it x my lord, to seize my own, 
My true betrothed love, and now my wife ? 
But let the laws of Rome determine all ; 
Meanwhile, I am possess'd of that is mine. 

Sat. 'Tis good, sir ; You are very short with us; 
But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. 

Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I may, 
Answer I must, and shall do with my life. 
Only this much I ^ive your grace to know, 
By all the duties that I owe to Rome, 
This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, 
Is in opinion, and in honour wrong'd ; 
That, in the rescue of Lavinia, 
With his own hand did slay his youngest son, 
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath 
To be controll'd in that he frankly gave : 
Receive him then to favour, Saturnine ; 
That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds, 
A father, and a friend, to thee, and Rome. 

Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds ; 
'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonour'd me : 
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, 
How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine ! 

Tarn. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora 
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, 
Then hear me speak indifferently for all ; 
And at ray suit, sweet, pardon what is past. 

Sat. What ! madam ! be dishonour'd openly, 
And basely put it up without revenge? 

Tarn. Not so, my lord ; The gods of Rome fore- 
fend, 
I should be author to dishonour you ! 
But, on mine honour, dare I undertake 
For good Lord Titus' innocence in all. 
Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs : 
Then, at my suit, look graciously on hiru ■ 
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose 
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. 
My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last, 
Dissemble all your griefs and discontents : ) 
You are but newly planted in your throne ; > Aside. 
Lest then the people, and patricians too, ) 



Aside. 



Upon a just survey, take Titus' part 
And so supplant us for ingratitude, 
(Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,) 
Yield at entreats, and then let me alone: 
I'll find a day to massacre them all, 
And raze their faction, and their family, 
The cruel father, and his traitorous sons, 
To whom I sued for my dear son's life ; 
And make them know, what 'tis to make a 

queen 
Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in 

vain. 

Come, come, sweet emperor, — Come, Andronicus, 
Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart 
That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. 

Sat. Rise, Titus, rise ; my empress hath prevail'd, 

Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my lord : 
These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. 

Tarn. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, 
A Roman now adopted happily, 
And must advise the emperor for his good. 
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus ; — 
And let it be mine honour, good my lord, 
That I have reconcil'd your friends and you.— 
For you, prince Bassianus, I have pass'd 
My word and promise to the emperor, 
That you will be more mild and tractable. — 
And fear not, lords, — and you, Lavinia ; 
By my advice, all humbled on your knees, 
You shall ask pardon of his majesty. 

Luc. We do ; and vow to heaven, and to his 
highness, 
That, what we did, was mildly, as we might, 
Tend'ring our sister's honour, and our own. 

Mar. That on mine honour here I do protest. 

Sat. Away, and talk not ; trouble us no more.—' 

Tarn. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be 
friends : 
The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ; 
I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look hack. 

Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here, 
And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, 
I do remit these young men's heinous faults. 
Stand up. 

Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, 
I found a friend ; and sure as death I swore, 
I would not part a bachelor from the priest. 
Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides, 
You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends : 
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. 

Tit. To-morrow, an it please your majesty, 
To hunt the panther and the hart with rne, 
With horn and hound, we'll give your grace honjovr. 

Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Exeunt. 



time of Shakspeare. In that piece Agamemnon con- 
sents at last to allow Ajax the rites of sepulture, and 
Ulysses is the pleader whose arguments prevail in 
favour of his remains.' — Steevens. 

1 This is evidently a translation of the distich of En- 
uius :- 

' Nemo me laerumeis rtecoret : nee funera fletu 
Fascit quur? volito vivu' per ora virum.' 



ACT II. 3 

SCENE I. Rome. Before the Palace. Entti 

Aaron. 

Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, 
Safe out of fortune's shot : and sits aloft, 
Secure of thunder's crack, or lightning's flash ; 
Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach. 
As when the golden sun salutes the morn, 
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, 
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, 
And overlooks the highest-peering hills ; 

So Tamora. 

Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, 

And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. 

Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts 

To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, 

And mount her pitch ; whom thou in triumph long 

Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains ; 

And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes, 



2 To play a prize was a technical term in the ancierji 
fencing schools. 

3 In the quarto of 1600 the stage direction is ' Souna 
trumpets, manet Moore.'' In the quarto of 101 1 die 
direction is ' Manet Jlaron,' 1 and he is before made to 
enter with Tamora, though he says nothing. This 
scene ought to continue the first aci.—Julmson. 



348 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Act II. 



Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. 
Awav with slavish weeds, and servile thoughts! 
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, 
To wait upon this new-made emperess. 
To wait, said I ? to wanton with this queen, 
This goddess, this Semiramis ; — this nymph, 
This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, 
And see his shipwreck, and his commonweal's. 
Holloa ! what storm is this ? 

Enter Chikon and Demetrius, braving. 

Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants 
edge, 
And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd : 
And mav, for aught thou know'st, affected be. 

Chi. Demetrius, thou dost overween in all: 
And so in this, to bear me down with braves. 
'Tis not the difference of a year, or two, 
Makes me less gracious, thee more fortunate : 
I am as able, and as fit, as thou, 
To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace ; 
And that my sword upou thee shall approve, 
And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. 

Aar. Clubs, clubs!' these lovers will not keep 
tin- peace. 

Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, 
Gave you a dancing-rapier* by your side, 
Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends ? 
Go to ; have your lath glued within your sheath 
Till \<>u know better how to handle it. 

Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, 
Full well shah thou perceive how much [ dare. 

Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave ? [They draw. 

Aar. Why, how now, lords '! 

So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, 
And maintain such a quarrel openly? 
Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge ; 
I would not for a million of gold, 
The cause were known to them it most concerns : 
Nor would your noble mother, for much more, 
Be so dishonour'^ in the court of Rome. 
For shame, put up. 

Dem. Not I : till I have sheath'd 

My rapier in his bosom, and, withal, 
Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat, 
That he hath bi-eath'd in my dishonour here. 

Chi. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd, — 
Foul-spoken coward ! that thuuder'st with thy 

tongue, 3 
And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform. 

Aar. Away, I say. — 
New by the gods, that warlike Goths adore, 
This petty brabble will undo us all. — 
Why, lords, — and think you not how dangerous 
It is to jut upon a prince's right? 
What, is Lavinia then become so loose, 
Or Bassianus so degenerate, 
That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd, 
Without controlment, justice, or revenge ? 
Young lords, beware ! — an should the empress know 
This discord's ground, the music would not please. 



1 This was the usual outcry for assistance, when any 
riot in the street happened. 

2 It appears that a light kind of sword, more for show 
than use, was worn bv gentlemen, even when dancing, 
in the reign of Elizabeth. So in All's Well that Ends 
Well :— 

' no sword worn 

Bui one to dance with.' 1 
And Greene in his Q.uip for an Upstart Courtier : — • One 
of them carrying his cutting sword of choller the other 
his danrins-rapier of delight.' 

3 This phrase appears to have been adopted fromVir- 
gil, jEneid xi. 383 :— 

' Proiude tuna eloqufo, soliium tihi — ' 

4 Chiron appears to mean, 'that, had he a thousand 
lives, such was his love for Lavinia, he would pro- 
pose to venture them all to achieve her.' Thus in the 
Taming of the Shrew :- — 

' Tranio, I burn, I bum, I pine, I perish, Tranio, 
If I achieve not this young modest cirl.' 

5 These two lines occur, with very little variation, in 
the First Part of King Henry VI. :— 

' She's beautiful', and therefore to be woo'd ; 
She is a woman, tnerelbre to be won.' 



Chi. I care not, I, knew she and. all the world; 
I love Lavinia more than all the world. 

Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner 
choice : 
Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. 

Aar. Why, are ye mad ? or know ye not, in Rome 
How furious and impatient they be, 
And cannot brook competitors in love ? 
I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths 
By this device. 

Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths 

Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love.* 

Aar. To achieve her ! — How ? 

Dem. Why mak'st thou it so strange ? 

She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd ; 
She is a woman, therefore may be won ; s 
She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. 
What, man! more water glideth by the mill 6 
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is 
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know : 
Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, 
Better than he have yet worn Vulcan's badge. 

Aar. Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. 

[Aside 

Dem. Then why should he despair, that knows tc 
court it 
With words, fair looks, and liberality ? 
What, hast thou not full often struck a doe, 
And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? 7 

Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch, 
or so, 
Wonld serve your turns. 

Chi. Ay, so the turn were serv'd. 

Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. 

Aar. 'Would, you had hit it too; 

Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. 
Why, hark ye, hark ye, — And are you such fools, 
To square 8 for this ? Would it offend you then 
That both should speed ? 

Chi. I'faith, not me. 

Dem. Nor me, 

So I were one. 

Aar. For shame, be friends ; and join for that 
you jar. 
'Tis policy and stratagem must do 
That von affect ; and so must you resolve ; 
That what you cannot, as you would, achieve, 
You must perforce accomplish as you may. 
Take this of me, Lucrece was not more chaste 
Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. 
A speedier course than lingering languishment 
.Must we pursue, and I have found the path. 
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand ; 
There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: 
The forest walks are wide and spacious ; 
And many unfrequented plots there are, 
Fitted by kind 9 for rape and villany: 
Single you thither then this dainty doe, 
And strike her home by force, if not by words : 
This way, or not at all, stand you in hppe. 
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred 10 wit, 
To villany and vengeance consecrate, 
Will we acquaint with all that we intend ; 



This circumstance has given rise to a conjecture that 
the author of the present play was also tbe writer ofthe 
original King Henry VI. Ritson says that he 'should 
take Kyd to have been the author of Titus Andronicus, 
because he seems to delight in murders and scraps ol 
Latin, though it must be confessed that in the first ol 
those good qualities Marlowe's Jew of Malta may fairly 
dispute precedence with the Spanish Tragedy.' 

6 There is a Scottish proverb, ' Mjckle water goes by 
the miller when he sleeps,' 3Von omnem molitorquse 
Unit urida videt. The subsequent line is also a northern 
proverb, ' It is safe taking a skive of a cut loaf.' 

7 Mr. Holt is willing to infer that Titus Andronicus 
was one of Shakspeare's early performances, because 
the stratagems ofthe profession traditionally given to 
his youth seem here to have been fresh in the writer's 
mind. But. when we consider how common allusions 
to sports of the field are in all the writers of that ago 
there seems to be no real ground for the conclusion. 

8 Quarrel. 9 By natu) e. 

10 Sacred here signifies accursed; aLatinism. 



Scene III. 



Titus andronicus. 



349 



And she shai! fi!e our engines with advics, 1 
That will not suffer you to square yourselves, 
But to your wishes' height advance you hoth. 
The emperor's court is like the house of fame, 
The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of cars : 
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull ; 
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your 

turns : 
There serve your lust, shadow'd from heaven's eye, 
4nd revel in Lavinia's treasury. 

Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. 

Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream 
To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, 
Per Slyga, per manes vehor. 2 [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 3 A Forest near Rome. A Lodge seen 

at a distance. Morns, and cry of Hounds heard. 

Enter Titus Andronicus, with Hunters, fyc. 

Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, otw/Martius. 
Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and gray, 
The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green : 
Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, 
And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, 
And rouse the prince ; and ring a hunter's peal, 
That all the court may echo with the noise. 
Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, 
To tend the emperor's person carefully : 
I have Deen troubled in my sleep this night, 
Cut dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd. 
Horns wind a Peal. Enter Saturninus, Ta- 

mora, Basjianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Deme- 
trius, and Attendants. 

Tit. Many good morrows to your majesty ; — 
Madam, to you as many and as good ! — 
I promised your grace a hunter's peal. 

Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lords, 
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. 
Has. Lavinia, how say you? 

Lav. I say, no ; 

I have been broad awake two hours and more. 

Sat. Come on, then, horse and chariots let us 
have, 
And to our sport : — Madam, now shall ye see 
Our Roman hunting. [To Tamora. 

Mar. I have dogs, my lord, 

'•Vill rouse the proudest panther in the chase, 
And climb the highest promontory top. 

Tit. And I have horse will follow where the 
game 
Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. 

Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor 
hound, 
But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE III. A desert Part of the Forest. Enter 
Aaron, with a Bag of Gold. 

Aar. He, that had wit, would think that I had 
none, 
To bury so much gold under a tree, 
And never after to inherit 4 it. 
Let him, that thinks of me so abjectly, 
Know, that this gold must coin a stratagem ; 
Which, cunninglv effected, will beget 
A very excellent piece of villany ; 
And so repose, sweet, gold, for their unrest, 
[ Hides the 
That have their alms out ot the empress' chest. 5 



iold. 



Enter Tamora. 



Tarn. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look 7 st thou 
sad, c 

1 The allusion is to the operation of the rile, which, 
by giving smoothness, facilitates :iie motion of the parts 
of an engine or piece of machinery. 

•2 These scraps of Latin are taken, though not exactly, 
from some of Seneca's tragedies. 

3 ' The division of this play into acts, which was first 
made in the folio of 16-23, is improper. There is here 
an interval of action, and here the second act ought to 
have begun.' — Johnson. 

4 i. e. possess 

5 ""hjs is obscure It seems to mean only, that they 



When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? 
The birds chant melody on every bush ; 
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun 
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, 
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground : 
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 
And — whilst the babbling echo mocks the hound3, 
Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, 
As if a double hunt were heard at once, — 
Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise 
And — after conflict, such as was suppos'd 
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, 
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd, 

And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, 

We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, 
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber ; 
Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious 

birds, 
Be unto us, as is a nurse's song 
Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. 

Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, 
Saturn is dominator over mine : 
What signifies my deadly standing eye, 
My silence, and my cloudy melancholy ? 
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls 
Even as an adder, when she doth unroll 
To do some fatal execution ? 
No, madam, these are no venereal signs ; 
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand 
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. 
Hark, Tamora, — the empress of my soul, 
Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, 
This is the day of doom for Bassianus ; 
His Philomel' must lose her tongue to-day 
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, 
And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. 
Seest thou this letter ? take it up, I pray thee, 
And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll : — 
Now question me no more, we are espied ; 
Here comes a parcel" of our hopeful booty, 
Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. 
Tarn. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than 

life. 
Aar. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes '. 
Be cross with him ; and I'll go fetch thy sons 
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. [Exit. 

Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. 

Bas. Who have we here ? Rome's royal emperess 
Unfurnish'd of her well-btseeming troop ? 
Or is it Dian, habited like her ; 
Who hath abandoned her holy groves, 
To see the general hunting in this forest ? 

Tarn. Saucy controller of our private steps ! 
Had I the power, that, some say, Dian had, 
Thy temples should be planted presently 
With horns, as was Actaeon's ; and the hounds 
Should drive upon thy new transformed limbs, 
Unmannerly intruder as thou art ! 

Lav. Under your patience, gentle emperess, 
'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning ; 
And to be doubted, that your Moor and you 
Are singled forth to try experiments : 
Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day ! 
'Tis pity, they should take him for a stag. 

Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimme- 
rian 9 
Doth make your honour of his body's hue, 
Spotted, detested, and abominable. 
Why are you sequester'd from all your train 
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed 
And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, 
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, 
If foul desire had not conducted you ? 



who are to come at this gold of the empress are to suffer 
by it. — Johnson. 

6 Malone remarks, that there is much poetical beamy 
in this speech of Tamora ; he thinks it the only part of 
the play which resembles the style of Shakspeare. 

7 See Ovid's Metamorphoses, book vi. 
9 i. e. a part. 

9 Svarlh is dusky. The Moor is called Cimmerian 
from the affinity of blackness to darkness. 



S30 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Act II. 



Lav. And, being intercepted in your sport, 
Great reason that my noble lord be rated 
For sauciness. — I pray you, let us hence, 
And let her 'joy her raven-colour'd love ; 
This valley fits the purpose passing well. 

Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of 
this. 

Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted 
long: 1 
Good king ! to be so mightily abus'd ! 

Tanu Why have I patience to endure all this ? 

Enter Chiron and Demetrius. 

Dcm. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious 
mother, 
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan ? 

Tarn. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale ? 
These two have 'tic'd me hither to this place, 
A barren detested vale, you see, it is : 
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
O'ercome with moss, and baleful mistletoe. 
Here never shines the sun, 2 here nothing breeds, 
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. 
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit, 
They told me, here, at dead time of the night, 
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, 
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, 3 
Would make such fearful and confused cries, 
As any mortal body, hearing it, 
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.* 
No sooner had they told this hellish tale, 
But straight they told me, they would bind me here 
Unto the body of a dismal yew ; 
And leave me to this miserable death. 
And then they call'd me, foul adulteress, 
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms 
That ever ear did hear to such effect. 
Ami, had you not by wondrous fortune come, 
This vengeance on me had they executed : 
Revenge it, as vou love your mother's life, 
Or he ye not henceforth call'd my children. 

Dem. This is a witness that I am thy son. 

[Stabs Bassiancs. 

Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my 
strength. [Slabbing him likewise. 

Lav. Ay come, Semiramis, 5 — nay, barbarous 
Tamora ! 
For no name fits thy nature but thy own ! 

2'om. Give me thy poniard ; you shall know, my 
boys, 
Your mother's hand shall right your mother's 
wrong. 

Dcm. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her ; 
First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw : 
This minion stood upon her chastity, 
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, 
And with that painted hone G braves your mightiness: 
And shall she carry this unto her grave? 

Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. 
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, 
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. 

Tarn. But when you have the honey you desire, 
Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. 

Chi. I warrant you, madam ; we will make that 
sure. — 
Come, mistress, now perforce, we will enjoy 
That nice-preserved honesty of yours. 

Lav. O, Tamora ! thou bear'st a woman's face, — 

Tarn. I will not hear her speak ; away with her. 

Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a 
word. 

Dem. Listen, fair madam : Let it be your glory 
To see her tears : but be your heart to them, 
A.s unrelenting flint to drops of rain. 



1 He hail yet been married hut one night. The true 
reading may be ' made her,' i. e. Tamora. 

2 Rowe seems to have thought on this passage in his 
T ane Shore : — 

' This is the house where the sun never dawns, 
The bird of night sits screaming o'er its roof, 
Grim- spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, 
And nought is heard but waitings and lamentings.' 

3 Hedgehogs. 



Lav. When did the timer's young ones teach the 
dam ? 
O, do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee : 
The milk, thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble; 
Even at thy teat ihou hadst thy tyranny. — 
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike ; 
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. 

[To Chiroct. 

Chi. What ! would'st thou have me prove myself 
a bastard? 

Lav. 'Tis true ; the raven doth not hatch a lark: 
Yet I have heard, (O, could I find it now !) 
The lion mov'd with pity, did endure 
To have his princely paws par'd all away. 
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, 
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: 
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, 
Nothing so kind, butsomelhing pitiful! 

Tarn. I know not what it means ; away with her. 

Lav. O, let me teach thee : for my father's sake, 
That gave thee life, when well he might have slain 

thee, 
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. 

Tarn. Had thou in person ne'er offended me, 
Even for his sake am I pitiless : — 
Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, 
To save your brother from the sacrifice ; 
But fierce Andronicus would not relent. 
Therefore away with her, and use her as you will , 
The worse to her, the better lov'd of me. 

Lav. O, Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, 
And with thine own hands kill me in this place : 
For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long ; 
Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died. 

Tarn. What begg'st thou, then .' fond woman, let 
me go. 

Lav. 'Tis present death I beg ; and one thing 
more, 
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell : 
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, 
And tumble me into some loathsome pit; 
Where never man's eye may behold my body : 
Do this, and be a charitable murderer. 

Tarn. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee : 
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. 

Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long. 

Lav. No grace ? no womanhood ? Ah, beastly 
creature ! 
The blot and enemy to our general name ! 
Confusion fall 

Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth : — Bring 
thou her husband : 

[Dragging off Lavinia. 
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. 

[Exeunt. 

Tarn. Farewell, my sons ; see that you make her 
sure : 
Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, 
Till all the Andronici be made away. 
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, 
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower. [Exit. 
SCENE IV. The same. Enter Aaron u,ith 
Quintus and Martius. 

Aar. Come on, my lords ; the better foot before : 
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, 
Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep. 

Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. 

Mart. And mine, I promise you ; were't not for 
shame, 
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. 

[Martius falls into the Pit. 



4 This is said in fabulous physiology of those that hear 
the groan of the mandrake when torn up. The. same 
thought, and almost the same expression, occur in Ro 
meo and Juliet. 

5 The propriety of this address will be best understood 
by consulting Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 42. The inconti- 
nence of Semiramis has been already alluded to in the 
Induction to The Taming of the Shrew, Sc. ii. 

6 Painted hope is only specious hope, or ground oj 
confidence, more plausible, than solid. Steevens thought 
tha*t the word hope was interpolated, the sense being 
complete and the line more harmonious without it. 



ScEaE V 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Mi 



Quin. What, art thou fallen ? What subtle hole 
is this, 
Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briars ; 
Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood, 
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers / 
A very fatal place it seems to me : — 
Speak, bro'her, hast thou hurt thee with the fall ? 

Mart. O, brother, with the dismall'st object hurt 
That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament. 

Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to find 
them here : 
That he thereby may give a likely guess, 
How these were they that made away his brother. 

[Exit Aaron. 

Marl, Why dost not comfort me, and help me out 
From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? 

Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear : 
A chilling sweat o'erruns rny trembling joints ; 
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. 

Mart. To prove thou hast a true divining heart, 
Aaron and thou look down into this den, 
And see a fearful sight of blood and death. 

Quin. Aaron is gone ; and my compassionate 
heart 
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise: 
O, tell me how it is ; fur ne'er till now 
Was I a child, to fear I know not what. 

Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, 
All on a heap like to a slaughter'd lamb, 
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. 

Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he V 

Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, 1 
Which, like a taper in some monument, 
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, 
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit: 
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, 
When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. 
O, brother, help me with thy fainting hand, — 
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, — 
Out of this fell devouring receptacle, 
As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. 

Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee 
out; 
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 
I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb 
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. 
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. 

Mar. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. 

Quin. Thy hand once more ; I will not loose 
again, 
Till thou art here aloft, or I below: 
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. 

[Falls in. 
Enter Saturninus and Aaron. 

Sat. Along with me : — I'll see what hole is here. 
And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. 
Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend 
Into this gaping hollow of the earth ? 

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus ; 
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, 
To find thy brother Bassianus dead. 

Sat. My brother dead ? I know, thou dost but jctst : 
He and his lady both are at the lodge, 
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 
'Tis not an hour since I left him there. 

Mart. We know not where you left him all alive, 
But, out alas! here have we found him dead. 

Enter Tamora, v)ith Attendants ; Titus Andro- 
nicus, and Lucius. 
Tarn. Where is my lord, the king? 
Sat. Here, Tamora ; though griev'd with killing 
grief. 



1 Old naturalists assert that there is a gem called a 
carbuncle, which emits not reflected but native light. 
Boyle believed in the reality of'its existence. It is often 
alluded to in ancient fable. Thus in the Gesta Roma- 
norum :— ' He farther beheld and saw a carbuncle that 
lighted all the house.' And Drayton in The Muse's 
Elysium :— 



Tarn. Where is thy brother Bassianus ? 
Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my 
wound ; 
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. 

'Tarn. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ. 

[Giving a Letter, 
The complot of this timeless* tragedy ; 
And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold 
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. 

Sat. [Reads.] An if we miss to meet him hand 
somely,' — 
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus , tis, we mean, — 
Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; 
Thou know' st our meaning: Eookfor thy reward 
Among the nettles at the eider tree,' 
Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, 
IV here we decreed to bury Bassianus. 
Do this, and purchase, us thy lasting friends. 
O, Tamora! was ever heard the like? 
This is the pit, and this the elder tree 
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out 
That should have murder'd Bassianus here. 

Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. 

[Showing it. 
Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tit., fell curse of 
bloody kind, 
Have here bereft my brother of his life : — 
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison ; 
There let them bide, until we have devis'd 
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. 

Tarn. What, are they in this pit ? O, wondrous 
thing ! 
How easily murder is discovered ! 

Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee 
I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, 
That this fell fault of my accursed sons, 

Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them, 

Sat. If it be prov'd ! you see, it is apparent.— 
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? 
Tarn. Andronicus himself did take it up. 
Tit. I did, my lord : yet let me be their bail : 
For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow, 
They shall be ready at your highness' will, 
To answer their suspicion with their lives. 

Sat. Thou shalt not bail them : see, thou follow 
me. 
Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: 
Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain ; 
For, by my soul, were ther? worse end than death. 
That end upon them should be executed. 

Tarn. Andronicus, I will entreat the king ; 
Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. 
Tit. Come, Lucius, come : stay not to talk with 
them. [Exeunt severally, 

SCENE V. The same. Enter Demetrius and 
Chiron, with Lavinia, ravished; her Hands cut 
off, and Tongue cut out. 

Dem. So now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, 
Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. 
Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning 
so : 
And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. 
Dem. See how with signs and tokens she can 

scowl. 
Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy 

hands. 
Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to 
wash : 
And so let's leave her to her silent walks. 

Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang my- 
self. 
Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the 
cord. 

[Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. 



' Is that admired mighty stone, 
The carbuncle that's named ; 
AVhich from it such a flaming light 
And radiancy ejecteth, 
That in the very darkest night 
The eye to it directeth. 
2 i. e. untimely So in King Richard II. : — 
1 The bloody office of his timeless end.' 



354 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Act III 



Enter Marcus. 
Mar. Who's this,— my niece, that flies away so 
fast '/ 
Cousin, a word ; Where is your husband 7 — 
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake 

me ! ' 
If I do wake, some planet strike me. down, 
That I may slumber in eternal sleep ! — 
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands 
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare 
Of her two branches 7 those sweet ornaments, 
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep 

in > , 

And might not gain so great a happiness, 

As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? — 

Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, 

Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, 

Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, 

Coming and going with thy honey breath. 

But, sure, some Tereus hath deflour'd thee ; 

And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue. 

Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame ! 

And notwithstanding all this loss of blood, — 

As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, — 

Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, 

Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. 

Shall I speak for thee ? shall I say, 'tis so? 

O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, 

That I might rail at him to ease my mind ! 

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, 

Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 

Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, 

And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind ; 

But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee ; 

A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, 

And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, 

That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 

O, had the monster seen those lily hands 

Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, 

And make the silken strings delight to kiss them ; 

He would not then have touch'd them for his life : 

Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, 

Which that sweet tongue hath made, 

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, 

As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. 

Come, let us go, and make thy father blind : 

For such a sight will blind a father's eye : 

One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ; 

What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes V 

Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee ; 

O, could our mourning ease thy misery ! [Exeunt. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. Rome. A Street. Enter Senators, 
Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with Martius 
andQuiNTUs, bound, passing on to the Place of 
Execution; Titus going before, pleading. 
Tit. Hear me, grave fathers ! noble tribunes, stay ! 

For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 

In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept ; 

For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed ; 

For all the frosty nighti that I have watch'd ; 

And for these bitter tears, which now you see 

Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ; 

Be pitiful to my condemned sons, 

Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought ! 

For two and twenty sons I never wept, 

Because they died in honour's lofty bed. 

For these, good tribunes, in the dust I write 

[ Throwing himself on the Ground. 

Mv heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. 

Let mv tears stanch the earth's dry appetite ; 

My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. 
[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, $-c. with the 
Prisoners. 



O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, 
That shall distil, from these two ancient urns, 2 
Than youthful April shall with all his showers; 
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still ; 
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow, 
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, 
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. 

Enter Lucius, with his Sword drawn. 

O, reverend tribunes ! gentle aged men ! 
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death ; 
And let me say that never wept before, 
My tears are now prevailing orators. 

Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain ; 
The tribunes hear you not, no man is by, 
And you recount your sorrows to a stone. 

Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead : 
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. 

Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. 

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did mark, 
They would not pity me ; yet plead I must, 
All bootless unto them. 
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ; 
Who, though they cannot answer my distress, 
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, 
For that they will not intercept my tale : 
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet 
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me ; 
And, were thev but attired in grave weeds, 
Rome could afford no tribune like to these. 
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hcerd than 

stones : 
A stone is silent, and offendeth not ; 
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. 
But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn ? 

Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death : 
For which attempt, the judges have pronoune'd 
My everlasting doom of banishment. 

Tit. O, happy man ! they have befriended thee. 
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, 
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? 
Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey, 
But me and mine : How happy art thou, then, 
Froai these devourers to be banished ? 
But who comes with our brother Marcus here? 

Enter Marcus and Latinia 

Mar. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep ; 
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break ! 
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. 

Til. Will it consume me 7 let me see it, then. 

Mar. This was thy daughter. 

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. 

Luc. Ah me ! this object kills me ! 

Til. Faint-hearted boy r arise, and look upon 
her : — 
Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand 
Hath made thee (landless in thy father's sight ! 
What fool hath added water to the sea? 
Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy ? 
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, 
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. — 
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too ; 
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain , 
And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding life ; 
In bootless prayer have they been held up, 
And they have serv'd me to effectless use ; 
Now, all the service I require of them 
Is, that the one will help to cut the other. — 
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands ; 
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. 

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath marty r'd thee ? 

Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,* 
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, 
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage: 
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! 

Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed ? 



1 ' If this be a dream, I wouM give all my posses- 
sions to be delivered from it by waking.' 

2 The old copies read, 'two ancient rimes. , The 
emendation is by Sir T. Hanmer 



3 This piece furnishes scarce .my resemblances to 
Shakspeare's works ; this one expression, however, is 
found in his Venus and Adonis :— 

Once more Ihe engine of her thoughts began ' 



Scene I 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



353 



Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, 
Seeking to h?de herself, as doth the deer, 
That hath recciv'd some unrecuring wound. 

Tit. It was my deer ; and he, that wounded her, 
Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead : 
For now I stand as one upon a rock, 
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; 
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, 
Expecting ever when some envious surge 
Will in Ins brinish bowels swallow him. 
This way to death my wretched sons are gone ; 
Here stands my other son, a banish'd man ; 
And here, my brother, weeping at my woes ; 
But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn, 
Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. — 
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, 
It would have madded me ; What shall I do 
Now I behold thy lively body so ? 
Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears ; 
Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee : 
Thy husband he is dead : and, for his death, 
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this : — 
Look, Marcus ! ah, son Lucius, look on her : 
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks ; as doth the honey dew 
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 

Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd 
her husband : 
Perchance, because she knows them innocent. 

Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, 
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. — 
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ; 
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. — 
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips ; 
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease : 
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, 
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain 
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks 
How they are stain'd ? like meadows, yet not dry 
With miry slime left on them by a flood ? 
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long, 
Till the fresh taste he taken from that clearness, 
And make, a brine pit with our bitter tears ? 
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ? 
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows 
Pass the remainder of our hateful days ? 
What shall we do ? let us, that have our tongues, 
Plot some device of further misery, 
To make us wonder'd at in time to come. 

Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears ; for, at your 
grief, 
See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. 

Mar. Patience, dear niece j — good Titus, dry 
thine eyes. 

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus ! brother, well I wot, 
Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, 
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. 

Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. 

Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark ! I understand her signs : 
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say 
That to her brother which I said to thee ; 
His napkin with his true tears all bewet, 
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. 
O, what a sympathy of wo is this ! 
As far from help as limbo' is from bliss ! 

Enter Aaron. 

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor 
Sends thee this word, — That, if thou love thy sorts, 
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, 
Or any one of you, chop off your hand, 
And send it to the king : he, for the same, 
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive ; 
And that shall be the ransom for their fault. 

Tit. O, gracious emperor ! O, gentle Aaron ! 
Did ever raven sing so like a lark, 
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? 



1 The Llmbtts patrum, as it was called, is a place 
that the schoolmen supposed to be in the neighbourhood 
of hell, where the souls of the patriarchs were detained, 
and those good men who died before our Saviour's re- 

56 



With all my heart, I'll send the emperor 

My hand: 

Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? 

Luc. Stay, father ; for that noble hand of thine, 
That hath thrown down so many enemies, 
Shall not be sent : my hand will serve the turn : 
My youth can better spare my blood than you ; 
And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. 
Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended 
Rome, 
And rear'd aloft the bloody battlcaxe, 
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle ?- 
O, none of both but are of high desert: 
My hand hath been but idle ; let it serve 
To ransom my two nephews from their death ; 
Then have I kept it to a worthy end. 
Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go 
along, 
For fear they die before their pardon come. 
Mar. My hand shall go. 

Luc. By heaven, it shall not go. 

Tit. Sirs, strive no more ; such wither'd herbs as 
these 
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. 

Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son. 
Let me redeem my brothers both from death. 

Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's, 
Now let me show a brother's love to thee. 

Tit. Agree between you ; I will spare my hand. 
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe. 
Mar. But I will use the axe. 

[Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. 
Tit. Come hither, Aaron ; I'll deceive them both ; 
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. 

Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, 
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so : — 
But I'll deceive you in another sort, [Aside. 

And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. 

[He cuts off" Titus's Hand, 
Enter Lucius and Marcus. 
Tk. Now, stay your strife : what shall be, is 
despatch d. — 
Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand : 
Tell him it was a hand that warded him 
From thousand dangers ; bid him bury it ; 
More hath it merited, that let it have. 
As for my sons, say, I account of them 
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price ; 
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 

Aar. I go, Andronicus : and for thy hand, 
Look by-and-by to have thy sons with thee : — 
Their heads, I mean. — O, how this villany [Aside. 
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it ! 
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, 
Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Exit. 

Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, 
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth : 
If any power pities wretched tears, 
To that I call : — What, wilt thou kneel with me? 

[To Lavinia. 
Do then, dear heart ; for heaven shall hear our 

prayers ; 
Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, 
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds. 
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. 

Mar. O ! brother, speak with possibilities, 
And do not break into these deep extremes. 

Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom ? 
Then be my passions bottomless with them. 
Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. 
Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, 
Then into limits could I bind my woes : 
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er 

flow? 
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, 
Threatening the welkin with hisbig-swoln face? 
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? 



surrection. Milton gives the name of Limbo to his 
Paradise of Fools. 

•2 It appears from Grose on Antient Armour, that a 
castle was a kind of close helmei, probably so named 
irom casjuetel, old French. 



S54 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Act III. 



I am the sea ; hark, how her sighs do blow • 
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: 
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs ; 
Then must my earth with her continual tears 
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd : 
For why ? my bowels cannot hide her woes, 
But like a drunkard must I vomit them. 
Then give me leave ; for losers will have leave 
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. 
Enter a Messenger, with two Heads and a Hand. 

Mesa. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid 
For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. 
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons ; 
Arid here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back ; 
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd : 
That wo is me to think upon thy woes, 
More than remembrance of my father's death. 

[Exit. 
Mar. Now let hot ./Etna cool in Sicily, 
And be my heart an ever-burning hell ! 
These miseries are more than may be borne ! 
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, 
But sorrow flouted at is double death. 
Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a 
wound, 
And yet detested life not shrink thereat ! 
That ever death should let life bear his name, 
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ! 
[Lavinia kisses him. 
Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, 
As frozen water to a starved snake. 

Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? 
Mar. Now, farewell, flattery : Die, Andronicus ; 
Thou dost not slumber : see, thy two son's heads ; 
Thy warlike hand : thy mangled daughter here ; 
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, 
Even like a stony image, cold and numb. 
Ah ! now no more will I control thy griefs : 
Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand 
Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight 
The closing up of our most wretched eyes ! 
Now is a time to storm ; why art thou still? 
Tit. Ha, ha, ha! 

Mar. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this 
hour. 
i Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed : 
Besides this sorrow is an enemy, 
And would usurp upon my watery eyes, 
And make them blind with tributary tears ; 
Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? 
For these two heads do seem to speak to me; 
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, 
Till all these mischiefs be return'd again, 
Even in their throats that have committed them. 
Come, let me see what task I have to do. — 
You heavy people, circle me about ; 
That I may turn me to each one of you, 
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. 
The vow is made. — Come, brother take a head ; 
And in this hand the other will I bear: 
Lavinia, thou shall be employed in these things ; 
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. 
As for thee boy, go, got thee from my sight ; 
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay : 
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there : 
And, if you love me, as I think you do, 
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. 

[Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. 
Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father ; 
The woful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome ! 
Farewell, -proud' Rome! till Lucius come again, 
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. 
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister ; 



O, 'would, thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been ! 
But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives, 
But in oblivion, and hateful griefs, 
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs , 
And make proud Saturninus and his empress 
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. 
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, 
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit. 
SCENE II. 1 A Room in Titus's House. A Ban- 
quet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, 
and young Lucius, a Boy. 

Tit. So, so ; now sit : and look, you eat no more 
Than will preserve just so much strength in us 
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. 
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot ; 2 
Thv niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, 
And cannot passionate 5 our tenfold grief 
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine 
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; 
And when my heart, all mad with misery, 
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, 
Then thus I thump it down. — 
Thou map of wo, that thus dost talk in signs ! 

[To Lavinia. 
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, 
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 
Wound it with sighing, girl ; kill it with groans ; 
Or get some little knife between thy teeth, 
Ant! just against thy heart make thou a hole ; 
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, 
May run into that sink, and, soaking in, 
Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. 

Mar. Fie, brother, fie ! teach her not thus to lay 
Such violent hands upon her tender life. 

Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote al 
ready ? 
Why, Marcus, no man should be mad hut I. 
What violent hands can she lay on her life ? 
Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; 
To bid ^Eneas tell the tale twice o'er, 
How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ? 
O, handle hot the theme, to talk of hands ; 
Lest we remember still, that we have none.— 
Fie, fie, how franticlv I square my talk ! 
As if we should forget w'e had no hands, 
If Marcus did not name the word of hands! — 
Come, let's fall to: and, gentle girl, eat this: — 
Here is no drink ! Hartt, Marcus, what she says ;— 
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs, — 
She savs she drinks no other drink but tears, 
Rrew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd 5 upon her cheeks! 
Speechless complaincr, I will learn thy thought ; 
In th) dumb action wiil I be as perfect 
As begging hermits in their holy prayers : 
Thou Shalt not sigh nor hold thy stumps to heaven, 
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, 
But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, 
And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. 
Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep 
lamen's : 
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 
Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd 
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. 

Tit. Peace, tender sapling : thou art made o« 
tears, 
And tears will quickly melt thy life away. — 

[Marcus strikes the Dish with a Knife, 
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife ? 
Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord ; a fly. 
Tit. Out on thee, murderer ! thou kill'st my heart ; 
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: 
A deed of death, done on the innocent, 
Becomes not Titus' brother : Get thee gone ; 
I see, thou art not for my company. 

Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. 



1 This scene, which does not contribute any thing to 
the action, yet seems to be by the same author as the 
reel, is wanting in the quarto copies of 1600 and mil, 
but found in the folio of 1623. 

2 So in The Tcmpe-t :— 

' — sitting, 

Hi= arms in this sad knot.'* 



3 This obsolete verb is likewise found in Spenser: 

'Great pleasure rnix'd with pitiful regard, 
That godly king and queen did passionate ' 

4 So in Troilus and Cressida :— 

' . thou 

Handlist in thy discourse, O that her hand' 

5 A very coarse allusion to brewing. 



'Scene H. 



TITUS ANDR0N1CUS. 



555 



Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother ?' 
How would he hang his slender gilded wings, 
And buzz lamenting doings in the air? 
Poor harmless fly ! 

That, with his pretty buzzing melody, 
"Came here to make us merry ; and thou hast kill'd 
him. 

Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill-favour'd 

Like to the empress' Moor ; therefore I kill'd him. 

Tit. O, G, O, 
Then pardon me for reprehending thee, 
For thou hast done a charitable deed. 
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him ; 
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, 
Come hither purposely to poison me. — 
There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. — 
Ah, sirrah ! 2 — 

Yet I do think we are not brought so low, 
Hut that, between us, we can kill a fly, 
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. 

Mar. Alas, poor man ! grief has so wrought on 
him, 
He takes false shadows for true substances. 

Tit. Come, take away. — Lavinia, go with me: 
I'll to thy closet ; and go read with thee 
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. — 
Come, boy, and go with me ; thy sight is young, 
And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. Tlie same. Before Titus's House. 

Enter Titus and Marcus. Then enter Young 

Lucius, Lavinia running after him. 

Boy. Help, grandsire, help ! my aunt Lavinia 
Follows me every where, I know not why : — 
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes ! 
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. 

Mar. Stand by me, Lucius ; do not fear thine 
aunt. 

Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. 

Boy. Av, when my father was in Rome, she did. 

Mar. What means iny niece Lavinia by these 
signs ? 

Tit. Fear her not, Lucius : — Somewhat doth she 
mean: 
See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee ; 
Somewhither would she have thee go with her. 
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care 
Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, 
Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator. 3 
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? 

Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, 
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her : 
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, 
Extremity of griefs would make men mad ; 
And I have* read that Hecuba of Troy 
Ran mad through sorrow : That made me to fear ; 
Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt 
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, 
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth : 
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly ; 
Causeless, perhaps : But pardon me, sweet aunt : 
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, ■ 
I will most willingly attend your ladyship. 

Mar. Lucius, I will. 

[Lavinia turns over the Books which Lucius 
has let fall. 

Tit. How now, Lavinia ?— Marcus, what means 
this ? 
Some book there is that she desires to see : — 



1 Steevens conjectures that the words ' and mother' 
should be omitted. Ritson proposes to read the line 
thus : — 

' But ! How if that fly had a father, brother." 

2 This was formerly not a disrespectful expression. 
Poins uses the same address to the Prince of Wales in 
King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2. 

3 Tully's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator. 

4 Succession. 



Which is it, girl, of these ? — Open them, boy.— 
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd ; 
Come, and take choice of all my library, 
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens 
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. — 
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence 4 thus ? 

Mar. I think, she means, that there was more 
than one 
Confederate in the fact : — Ay, more there was :— 
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. 

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? 

Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis ; 
My mother gave't me. 

Mar. For love of her that's gone, 

Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. 

Tit. Soft ! see, how busily she turns the leaves ! 
Help her: — 

What would she find? — Lavinia, shall I read? 
This is the tragic tale of Philomel, 
And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape ? 
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. 

Mar. See, brother, see ; note how she quotes 4 
the leaves. 

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girt, 
Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, 
Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods ?-- 
See, see! — 

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, 
(0, had we never, never, hunted there!) 
Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, 
By nature made for murders, and for rapes. 

Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a den, 
Unless the gods delight in tragedies! 

Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, — for here are nore 
but friends, — 
What Roman lord it was durst do the deed : 
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, 
That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed ? 

Mar. Sit down, sweet niece ; — brother, sit down 
by me. — 
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, 
Inspire me, that I may this treason find ! — 
My lord, look here ; — Look here, Lavinia : 
This sandy plot is plain ; guide, if thou canst, 
This after me, when I have writ my name 
Without the help of any hand at all. 

[He writes his Name with his Staff, and guides 
it with his Feet and Blouth. 
Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift ! — 
Write thou, good niece : and here display, at last, 
What God will have discover'd for revenge ! 
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, 
That we may know the traitors and the truth ! 

[Slie takes the Staff" in her Mouth, and guides 
it with her Stumps, and writes. 

Tit. O, do you read, my lord what she hath writ ? 
Stuprum — Chiron — Demetrius. 

Mar. What, what ! — the lustful sons of Tamora 
Performers of this heinous, bloody deed ? 

Tit. Magne Dominator poli, s 
Tarn lentus audis scelera ? tarn lentus vides ? 

Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord ! although, I know, 
There is enough written upon this earth, 
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, 
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. 
My lord, kneel down with me : Lavinia, kneel ; 
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope ; 
And swear with me, — as with the woful feere, 7 
And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, 
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,— 
That we will prosecute, by good advice, 
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, 
And see their blood, or die with this reproach. 



5 To quote, is to observe. 

6 Magne Regnator Deum, &c. is the exclamation o' 
Hippolytus when Phasdra discovers the secret of her 
incestuous passion, in Seneca's Tragedy. 

7 Feere signifies a companion, and here metaphori 
cally a husband, as in the old romance of Sir Eglamour 
of Artoys, sig. A 4 : 

' Christabele, your daughter fre,e, 
When shall she have a fere ?' 



35S 



TITUS ANDRONICtfS. 



Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how, 
But if you hurt these bear- whelps, then beware : 
The dam will wake ; and, if she wind you once, 
She's with the lion deeply still in league, 
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, 
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list. 
You're a young huntsman, Marcus ; let it alone ; 
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, 
And with a gad 1 of steel will write these words, 
And lay it by : the angry northern wind. 
Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, 2 
And where's your lesson then ? — Boy, what say 
you ? 
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, 
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe 
For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. 

Mar. Ay, that's my boy ! thy father hath full oft 
For this ungrateful country done the like. 
Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. 
Tit. Come, go, with me into mine armoury ; 
Lucius, I'll fit thee ; and, withal, my boy 
Shall carry from me to the empress' sons 
Presents, that I intend to send them both : 
Come, come ; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou 
not? 
Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grand- 
sire. 
Tit. No, boy, not so ; I'll teach thee another 
course. 
Lavinia, come : — Marcus, look to my house ; 
Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court ; 
Ay, marry, will we, sir : and we'll be waited on. 

[Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Boy. 
Mar. heavens, can you hear a good man groan, 
And not relent, or not compassion him ? 
Marcus, attend him in his ecstacy ; 
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, 
Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield : 
But yet so just, that he will not revenge : — 
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus ! [Exit. 

SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Palace. 
Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius, at one 
Door ; at another Door, Young Lucius, and an 
Attendant, with a Bundle of XVeapons, and Ver- 
ses n-rit upon them. 

Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius ; 
He hath some message to deliver to us. 

Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grand- 
father. 
Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, 
I greet your honours from Andronicus ; — 
And pray the Roman gods confound you both. 

[Aside. 
Dem. Gramercy, 3 lovely Lucius ; What's the 

news? 
Boy. That you are both decipher'd, that's the 
news, 
For villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it 

please you, 
My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me 
The goodliest weapons of his armoury, 
To gratify your honourable youth, 
The hope of Rome ; for so he bade me say ; 
And so I do, and with his gifts present 
Your lordships, that whenever you have need, 
You may be armed and appointed well : 
And so' I leave 'you both, [aside] like bloody 
villains. [Exeunt Boy and Attendant. 

Dem. What's here? A scroll ; and written round 
about? 
Let's see ; 

Integer litre, scelerisque purus, 
Non egel Mauri jaculis, nee arcu. 

Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace ; I know it well : 
I read it in the grammar long ago. 



Act. I? 
right, you 
1 



Aside, 



1 A gad, in Anglo-Saxon, signified the point of a 
spear. It is here used for a similar pointed instrument. 

"2 ' Foliis tantum ne Carolina manda, 

Ne lurbata volent rapidis ludibria ventis.' 
* JEn. vi. 75. 



Aar. Ay, just! — a verse in Horace 
have it. 
Now, what a thing it is to be an ass ! 
Here's no sound jest ! 4 the old man hath 

found their guilt ; 
And sends the weapons wrapp'd about 

with lines, 
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the f 

quick. 
But were our witty empress well a-foot, 
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit. 
But let her rest in her unrest awhile. — 
And now, young lords, was't not a happy star 
Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, 
Captives, to be advanced to this height? 
It did me good, before the palace-gate 
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. 

Dem. But me more good, to see so great a lord 
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts. 

Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius ? 
Did you not use his daughter very friendly ? 

Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames 
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. 
Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love. 
Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say 

amen. 
Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand 

more. 
Dem. Come, let us go: and pray to all the gods 
For our beloved mother in her pains. 

Aar. Pray to the devils ; the gods have given us 

o'er. [Aside. Flourish. 

Dem. Why do 'the emperor's trumpets flourish 

thus ? 
CM. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. 
Dem. Soft j who comes here ? 

Enter a Nurse, with a Blaxk-a-moor Child in her 
Arms. 

Nur. Good morrow, lords-: 

O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor ? 

Aar. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at all, 
Here Aaron is : and what with Aaron now ? 

Nur. O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone ! 
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! 

Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep? 
What dost llioii wrap and fumble in thine arms ? 

Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's 

eve > 

Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace-; 
She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd. 

Aar. To whom? 

Nur. I mean, she's brought to bed. 

Aar. Well, Gad 

Give her good rest ! What hath he sent her ? 

Nur. A devil. 

Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam ; a joyful 
issue. 

Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, aud sorrowful 
issue : 
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad 
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. 
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, 
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. 

Aar. Out, out, you whore ! is black so base a hue? 
Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. 

Dem. Villain, what hast thou done ? 

Aar. Done ! that which thou 

Canst not undo. 

Chi. Thou hast undone our mother. 

Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother. 

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. 
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice ! 
Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend ! 
Chi. It shall not live. 

Aar. It shall not die. 

Nur. Aaron, it must : the mother wills it so. 

Aar. What, must it, nurse ? then let no man but I, 
Do execution on my flesh and blood. 



3 i. e. grand merci ; great thanks. 

4 This mode of expression was common formerly. 
So in King Henry IV. Part I. :— ' Here's no fine villany V 



EcENE III. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



357 



Dem. I'll broach 1 the tadpole on my rapier's 
point ; 
Nurse, give it me ; my sword shall soon despatch it. 

Aar Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up, 
[Takes the Cliild from the Nurse, and draws. 
Stay, murderous villains ! will you kill your brother? 
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, 
That shone so brightly when this boy was got, 
He dies upon my scymetar's sharp point, 
That touches this my first-born son and heir ! 
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, 2 
With all his threat' ning band of Typhon's brood, 
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, 
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. 
What, what ; ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys ! 
Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs ! 
Coal black is better than another hue, 
In that it scorns to bear another hue: 
For all the water in the ocean 
Can never turn a swan's black legs to white, 
Although she lave them hourly in the flood. 
Tell the emperess from me, I am of age 
To keep mine own ; excuse it how she can. 

Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ? 

Aar. My mistress is my mistress ; this, myself: 
The vigour, and the picture of my youth : 
This, before all the world, do I prefer ; 
This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe, 
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. 

Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd. 

Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul escape. 3 

Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her 
death. 

Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy.* 
Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: 
Fie, treacherous hue ! that will betray with blushing 
The close enacts and counsels of the heart I 5 
Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer : 6 
Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father ; 
As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own. 
He is your brother, lords ; sensibly fed 
Of that self-blood that first gave life to you ; 
And, from that womb, where you imprison'd were, 
He is enfranchised and come to light: 
Nay, he's your brother by the surer side, 
Although my seal be stamped in his face. 

Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress ? 

Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, 
And we will all subscribe to thy advice ; 
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. 

Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult. 
My son and I will have the wind of you : 
Keep there : Now talk at pleasure of your safety. 
[They sit on the Ground. 

Dem. How many women saw this child of his ? 

Aar. Why, so, brave lords ', When we all join in 
league, 
I am a lamb : but if you brave the Moor, 
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, 
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.— 
But, say aaain, how many saw the child ? 

JVur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself, 
And no one else, but the deliver'd empress. 

Aar. The emperess, the midwife, and yourself: 
Two may keep counsel, when the third's away : T 
Go to the empress; tell her, this I said : — 

[Stabbing her. 
Weke, weke ! — so cries a pig, prepar d to the spit. 

Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron ? Wherefore 
didst thou this ? 



1 In Lust's Dominion, by Marlowe, a play in its style 
bearing a near resemblance to Titus Andronicus, Elea- 
zar, the Moor, a character of unmingled ferocity, like 
Aaron, and, like him, the paramour of a royal mistress, 
exclaims : — 

' Run, and with a voice 

Erected high as mine, say thus, thus threaten 
To Roderigo and the Cardinal, 
Seek no queens here ; Til broach them, if they do, 
Upon my falchion's point.' 
3 A giant, the son of Titan and Terra. 
Zi e. this foul illegitimale t child. So in King John: — 
' JSo scape of Nature.' 



Aar. O, lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: 
Shall she live to betray this guilt or ours ? 
A long-tongu'd babbling go.ssip ? no, lords, no. 
And now be it known to you my full intent. 
Not far, one Muliteus lives, 8 my countryman. 
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed ; 
His child is like to her, fair as you arc : 
Go pack 3 with him, and give the mother gold, 
And tell them both the circumstance of all ; 
And how by this their child shall be advanc'd 
And be received for the emperor's heir, 
And substituted in the place of mine, 
To calm this tempest whirling in the court ; 
And let the emperor dandle him for his own. 
Hark ye, lords, ye see, that I have given her physic, 
[Pointing to the Nurse. 
And you must needs bestow her funeral ; 
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms : 
This done, see that you take no longer days, 
But send the midwife presently to me. 
The midwife, and the nurse, well made away, 
Then let the ladies tattle what they please. 

CM. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not trust the air 
With secrets. . 

Dem. For this care of Tamora, 

Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee. 

[Exeunt Dem. and Chi. bearing qff'theNurse. 

Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow 
flies ; 
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, 
And secretly to greet the empress' friends. — 
Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you 

hence ; 
For it is you that puts us to our shifts : 
I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots, 
And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, 
And cabin in a cave ; and bring you up 
To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit. 

SCENE III. The same. A public Place. Enter 
Titus, bearing Arrows, with Letters at the ends of 
them; with, him Marcus, Young Lucius, and 
other Gentlemen, with Bows. 

Tit. Come, Marcus, come ; — Kinsmen, this is 
the way : — 
Sir boy, now let me see your archery ; 
Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight : 
Terras Astrcea relkpiit: 

Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled 
Sir, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall 
Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets j 
Happily you may find her in the sea ; 
Yet there's as little justice as at land : — 
No ; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it ; 
'Tis you must dig with mattock, and with spade, 
And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: 
Then, when you come to Pluto's region, 
I pray you deliver him this petition : 
Tell him, it is for justice, and for aid : 
And that it comes from old Andronicus, 
Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. — 
Ah, Rome ! — Well, well ; I made thee miserable, 
What time I threw the people's suffrages 
On him that thus do:h tyrannize o'er me. — 
Go, get you gone ; and pray be careful all, 
And leave you not a man of war unsearch'd ; 
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence, 
And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. 

Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case, 
To see thy noble uncle thus distract ? 

Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns, 



4 i. e. ignominy. 

5 Thus also in Othello : — 

' They are close denotements working from the heart.' 

6 Complexion. 

7 This proverb is introduced in Romeo and Juliet, 
Act ii. 

8 The word lives, which is wanting in the old copies, 
was supplied by Rowe. Steevens thinks Muliteus a 
corruption for ' Muly lives.' 1 

9 To pack is to contrive insidiously. So in King 
Lear : — 

' Snuffs and packings of the dukes ' 



358 



TITUS ANDRONICUS 



Act IV* 



By day and night to attend him carefully ; 
And feed his humour kindly as we may, 
Till time beget some careful remedy. 

Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. 
Join with the Goths ; and with revengeful war 
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, 
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. 

Tit. Publius, how now ? how now, my masters ? 
What, 
Have you met with her ? 

Pub. No, my good lord : but Pluto sends you 
word 
[f you will have revenge from hell, you shall : 
Marry, for Justice she is so emplov'd, 
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or some where else, 
So that perforce you must needs stay a time. 

Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. 
I'll dive into the burning lake below, 
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. — 
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we ; 
No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclop's size : 
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back ; 
Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can 

bear : 
And sith there is no justice in earth nor hell, 
We will solicit heaven ; and move the gods, 
To send down justice for to wreak 1 our wrongs : 
Come, to this gear. 2 You are a good archer, Marcus. 
[He gives them the Arrows. 
Ad Jovem, that's for you : — Here, ad Apollimm. — 
Ad Mnrlem, that's for myself; — 
Here, boy, to Pallas : — Here, to Mercury : 
To Saturn, Caius,' not to Saturnine, — 
You were as good to shoot against the wind. — 
To it, boy. Marcus, loose you when I bid : 
O' my word, I have written to effect ; 
There's not a god left unsolicited. 

Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the 
court : 4 
We will afflict the emperor in his pride. 

Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoct] O, well 
said, Lucius! 
Good boy, in Virgo's lap ; give it Pallas. 

Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon ; 
Your letter is with Jupiter by this. 

Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? 
See, see, thou hast shot ofF one of Taurus' horns. 

Mar. This was the sport, my lord : when Pub- 
lius shot, 
The bull bring gall'd, gave Aries such a knock, 
That down fefl both the ram's horns in the court ; 
And who should find them but the empress' villain ? 
She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not 

choose 
But give them to his master for a present. 

Tit. Why, there it goes : God give your lord- 
ship joy. 

Enter a Clown, untk a Basket and two Pigeons. 
NV'ws, news from heaven ! Marcus, the post is 

come. 
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? 
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? 

Clo. Ho ! the gibbet-maker ? he says, that he 
hath taken them down again, for the man must not 
be hang'd till the next wlek. 

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? 

Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter ; I never drank 
with him in all my life. 

Tii. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? 

Clo. Av, of my pigeons, sir ; nothing else. 

Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? 



1 Revenge. 

2 Gear is here put for matter, business. 

3 Cuius appears to have been one of the kinsmen of 
Titus. Publius and Cains are again mentioned, Act v. 
Sc. 2. Steevens would read Coitus, as there was a Ro- 
man deity of that name. 

4 In the an< ient ballad, Titus Andronicus's Complaint, 
is the following passage: — 

' Then past releife I upp and downe did gne, 
And with my teares wrote in the dust my woe : 
I shot my arrowes towards heaven hie, 
And for revenge to hell did often cry. 1 



Clo. From heaven ? alas, sir, I never came there : 
God forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven 
in my young days. Why, I am going with my 
pigeons to the tribunal plebs, 5 to take up a matter 
of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's 
men. 

Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve 
for your oration ; and let him deliver the pigeons to 
the emperor from you. 

Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the 
emperor with a grace ? 

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in 
all my life. 

Tit. Sirrah, come hither : make no more ado, 
But give your pigeons to the emperor : 
By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. 
Hold, hold ; — mean while, here's money for thy 

charges. 
Give me a pen and ink. — 
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication' 

Clo. Av, sir. 

Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. Anil 
when you come to him, at the first approach, you 
must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up. 
your pigeons ; and then look for your reward, I'll 
be at hand, sir : see you do it bravely. 

Clo. I warrant you, sir ; let me alone. 

Til. Sirrah, hast thou a knife ? Come, let me 
see it. 
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration ; 
For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant: — 
And when thou hast given it to the emperor, 
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. 

Clo. God be with you, sir ; I will. 

Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go; — Publius, follow 
me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace. Enter 
Saturninus, Tamora, Chiron, Demetrius^ 
Lords, and others ; Sat(trninus with the Arrow* 
in his Hand that Titus shot. 
Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these Was- 
ever seen 
An emperor of Rome thus overborne, 
Troubled, confronted thus : and, for the extent 
Of egal 6 justice, us'd in such contempt ? 
My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods, 
However these disturbers of our peace 
Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd,. 
But even with law, against, the wilful sons 
Of old Andronicus. And what an if 
His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, 
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, 
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness ? 
And now he writes to heaven for his redress : 
See, here's to Jove, ami this to Mercury ; 
This to Apollo j this to the god of war : 
Sweet scrolls to flv about the streets of Rome' 
What's this, but libelling against the senate, 
And blazoning our injustice every where? 
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords ? 
As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 
But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies 
Shall be no shelter to these outrages: • 
But he and his shall know, that justice lives 
In Saturnimis' health ; whom, if she sleep, 
He'll so awake, as she in fiirv shall 
Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. 

Tarn. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnim?. 
Lord of mv life, commander of my thoughts, 
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, 
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, 
Whose loss hath piere'd him deep, and scarr'd his 

heart ; 
And rather comfort his distressed plight, 



Supposing the ballad to have been written before the 
play, this may be only a metaphorical expression, taken 
from Psalm lxiv. 3 : — ' They shoot out their arrows, even 

bitter words.' 

5 The Clown means to say, plebeian tribune ; i. e. tri- 
bune of the people. Haunier supposes that he mean» 
tribunus plebs. , 

H i'.o ..i : ' 



Scene IV 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



S59 



Than prosecute the meanest, or the best, 
For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become 
High-witted Tamora to gloze' with all : [Aside. 
But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick, 
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, 
Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. — 

Enter Clown. 

How now, good fellow ? would'st thou speak with us ? 

Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial. 

Tarn. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. 

Clo. 'Tis he. — God, and saint. Stephen, give you 
good den: — I have brought you a letter, and a cou- 
p.e of pigeons here. [Sat. reads the Letter. 

Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. 

Clo. How much money must I have ? 

Tarn. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. 

Clo. Hang'd ! By'r lady, then I have brought up 
a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded. 

Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! 
Shall I endure this monstrous villany ? 
I know from whence this same device proceeds ; 
May this be borne ? — as if his traitorous sons, 
That died by law for murder of our brother, 
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully. — 
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair ; 
Nor age, nor honour, shall shape privilege: 
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughterman ; 
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, 
En hope thyself should govern Rome and me. 

Enter .ZEmilius. 
What news with thee, iEmilius ? 

JEmiL Arm, arm, my lords ; Rome never had 
more cause! 
The Goths have gather'd head ; and with a power 
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, 
They hither march amain, under conduct 
Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; 
Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do 
As much as ever Coriolanus did. 

Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths ? 
These tidings nip me ; and I hang the head 
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms. 
Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach : 
'Tis he the common people love so much ; 
Myself hath often overheard them say 
(When I have walked like a private man,) 
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, 
And they have wish'd that Lucius were their em- 
peror. 

Tarn. Why should you fear ? is not your city 
strong ? 

Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius : 
And will revolt from me, to succour him. 

Tim. King, be thy thoughts imperious, 2 like thy 
name. 
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? 
The eagle suffers little birds to sing, 
And is not careful what they mean thereby ; 
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings, 
He can at pleasure stint 3 their melody : 
Even so may'st thou the giddy men of Rome. 
Then cheer thy spirit ; for know, thou emperor, 
I will enchant the old Andronicus, 
With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, 
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks 4 to sheep ; 
When as the one is wounded with the bait, 
The other rotted with delicious feed. 

Sat. But he will not entreat-his son for us. 

Tarn. If Tamora entreat him, then he will : 
For I can smooth and fill his aged ear 



J Flatter. 

2 See note on Troilus and Cressida, Act iv. Sc. 5 ; and 
Cvmbeline, Act iv. Sc. 1. 

3 i. e. stop their melody. So in Romeo and Juliet: — 

' — it stinted, and cried — ay.' 

4 If by honey-stalks plover flowers are meant, it is an 
error to suppose that they produce the rot in sheep. ■- 
Cows ami oxen will indeed overcharge themselves with 
clover and die. 

5 Srath is harm. 

6 ' Shakspeare has so perpetually offended against 



With go'den promises ; that were his heart 

Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, 

Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. — 

Go thou before, be our embassador; [To ./Emil. 

Say, that the emperor requests a parley 

Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting, 

Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. 

Sat. j53milius, do this message honourably : 
And if he stand on hostage for his safety, 
Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. 

JEmil. Your bidding shall I do effectually. 

[Exit ^Emilius. 

Tarn. Now will I to that old Andronicus ; 
And temper with him all the art I have, 
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. 
And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, 
And bury all thy fear in my devices. 

Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to him. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. Plains near Rome. Enter Lucius, 
and Goths, with Drum and Colours. 
Luc. Approved warriors, and mv faithful friends, 
I have received letters from great Rome, 
Which signify, what hate they bear their emperor, 
And how desirous of our sight they are. 
Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, 
Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs ; 
And, wherein Rome hath done you any scath. 4 
Let him make treble satisfaction. 

1 Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the great An- 

dronicus, 
Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort ; 
Whose high exploits, and honourable deeds, 
Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, 
Be bold in us : we'll follow where thou lead'st, — 
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, 
Led by their master to the flower'd fields, — 
And be avenged on cursed Tamora. 

Gotlis. And, as he saith, so say we all with him. 

Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. 
But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth ? 
Enter a Goth, leading Aaron, voilh his Child m 
his Arms. 

2 Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troops I 

stray'd, 
To gaze upon a ruinous monastery j 6 
And as I earnestly did fix mine eye 
Upon the wasted building, suddenly 
I heard a child cry underneath a wall : 
I made unto the noise ; when soon I heard 
The crying babe controll'd with this discourse : 
Peace, tawny slave ; half me, and half thy dam ! 
Did not thy hue bewray vihose brat thou art, 
Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, 
Villain, thou might'st have been an emperor : 
But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, 
They never do beget, a coal-black calf. 
Peace, villain, peace ! — even thus he rates the babe^ 
For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth ; 
IVho, when he knov>s thou art the empress' babe, 
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake 
With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, 
Surpris'd him suddenly ; and brought him hither, 
To use as you think needful of the man. 

Luc. O, worthy Goth ! this is the incarnate devil,. 
That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand : 
This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye ; T 



chronology, that no very conclusive argument can be 
deduced from the particular absurdityof these anachro- 
nisms relative to the authenticity of Titus Andronicus.. 
And yet the ruined monastery, the popish tricks, &c. 
that Aaron talks of, and especially the French saluta- 
tion from the mouth of Titus, are altogether so very 
much out of place, that I cannot persuade myself that 
even our hasty poet could have been guilty of their 
insertion, or would have permitted them to remain, had 
he corrected the performance of another.' — Steevens. 

7 Alluding to the proverb, ' A black man is a pearl in 
a fair woman's eye.' 



3bl> 



TITUS ANDR0N1CU& 



Act 7, 



And here's the base fruit of his burning lust. — 
Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither would'st thou convey 
This growing image of thy fiend-like face? 
Why dost not speak? What! deaf? No; not a 

word ? 
A halter, soldiers ; hang him on this tree, 
And by his side his fruit of bastardy. 

Aar. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood. 

Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good. — 
First, hang the child, that he may see it sprawl ; 
A sight to vex the father's soul withal. 
Get me a ladder. 

[A Ladder is brought, which Aaron is obliged 
to ascend. 

Aar. Lucius, save the child ; 

And bear it from me to the emperess. 
If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things, 
That highly may advantage thee to hear : 
If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, 
I'll speak no more ; But vengeance rot you all ! 

Luc. Say on ; and, if it please me which thou 
speak'st, 
Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. 

Aar. An if it please thee ? why, assure thee, 
Lucius, 
'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak ; 
For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres, 
Acts of black night, abominable deeds, 
Complots of mischief, treason ; villanies 
Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd :' 
And this shall all be buried by my death, 
Unless thou swear to me, my child shall live. 

Luc. Tell on thy mind ; I say, thy child shall live. 

Aar. Swear, that he shall, and then I will begin. 

Luc. Who should I swear by ? thou believ'at no 

r™ god ' 

That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? 

Aar. What if I do not ? as, indeed, I do not} 
Yet, for I know thou art religious, 
And hast a thing within thee, called conscience ; 
With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, 
Which I have seen thee careful to observe, — 
Therefore I urge thy oath : — For that, I know, 
An idiot holds his bauble 2 for a god, 
And keeps the oath, which by that god he swears ; 
To that I'll urge him : — Therefore, thou shaft vow- 
By that same god, what god soe'er it be, 
That thou ador'st and hast in reverence, — 
To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up ; 
Or else I will discover nought to thee. 

Luc. Even by my god, I swear, to thee I will. 

Aar. First, know thou, I begot him on the em- 
press. 

Luc. O, most insatiate, luxurious* woman! 

Aar. Tut, Lucius ! this was but a deed of charity, 
To that which thou shalt hear of nie anon: 
'Twas her t\yo sons that murder'd Bassianus ; 
They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her, 
And cut her hands ; and trimm'd her as thou saw'st. 

Luc. O, detestable villain ? call'st thou that trim- 
ming ? 

Aar. Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd ; 
and 'twas 
Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. 

Luc. O, barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! 

Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them ! 
That codding 4 spirit had they from their mother, 
As sure a card as ever won the set : 



1 i. e. performed in a manner exciting commiseration. 

2 Steevens thinks that the allusion is to a custom men- 
tioned in Genesis, xxiv. 9. 

3 i. e. lascivious. 

4 That love of bed-sports. 

a An allusion to bull-dogs ; whose generosity and 
Courage are always shown by meeting the bull in front. 

' Amongst the dogs and beares he goes, 

Where, while he skipping cries — To head, — to head.'' 

Dnvies's Epigrams. 
fi Perhaps Young had this speech in his thoughts 
When he made his Moor say: — 

' I urg'd Don Carlos to resign his mistress ; 
I fnrg'd the letter ; I dispos'd the picture ; 
I hated, I despis'd, and I destroy.' 



That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of rne, 

As true a dog as ever fought at head. 5 — 

Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. 

I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole, 

Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay : 

I wrote the letter that thy father found, 6 

And hid the gold within the letter mention'd, 

Confederate with the queen and her two sons ; 

And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, 

Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it ? 

I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand ; 

And, when I had it, drew myself apart, 

And almost broke my heart with extreme laughte/. 

I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall, 

When for his hand, he had his two sons' heads ; 

Beheld his tears, and laiigh'd so heartily, 

That both mine eyes were rainy like to his; 

And when I told the empress of this sport, 

She swounded 7 almost at my pleasing tale, 

And, for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. 

Goth. What ! canst thou say all this, and never 
blush ? 

Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. 

Luc. Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? 

Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. 
Even now I curse the day (and yet, I think, 
Few come within the compass of my curse,) 
Wherein I did not some notorious ill ; 
As kill a man, or else devise his death ; 
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it ; 
Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself: 
Set deadly enmity between two friends ; 
Make poor men's cattle bieak their necks ; 
Set fire on barns and haystacks in the night, 
And bid the owners quench them with their tears. 
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, 
And set them upright at their dear friends doors, 
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot 
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, 
Have with my knife carved, in Roman letters, 
Let not your sorrow die though 1 am dead. 
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things, 
As willingly as one would kill a rlv ; 
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed, 
But that I cannot do ten thousand more. 8 

Luc. Bring down the devil ; for he must not die 9 
So sweet a death as hanging presently. 

Aar. If there be devils, 'would I were a devil, 
To live and burn in everlasting fire ; 
So I might have your company in hell, 
But to torment you with my bitter tongue ! 

Luc. Sirs, stop his mouth and let him speak rw 
more. 

Enter a Goth. 

Goth. My lord, there is a messenger from Rone, 
Desires to be admitted to your presence. 
Luc. Let him come near. — 

Enter ^Emilius. 

Welcome, .rEmilius, what's the news from Rome ? 

JEmil. Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths. 
The Roman emperor greets you all by me: 
And-, for he understands you are in arms, 
He craves a parley at your father's house, 
Willing you to demand your hostages, 
And they shall be immediately deliver'd. 

1 Goth. What savs our general? 

Luc. ^Emilius, let the emperor give his pledges 
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, 
And we will come. — March away. l0 [Exeunt. 



I 7 The verb to swound, which we now write swoon 
was anciently in common use. 

8 Marlowe has been supposed to be the author af tflfs 
play ; and whoever will read the conversation betwee.% 
Barabas and Ithimore, in the Jew of Malta, Act ii. Mid 
compare it with these sentiments of Aaron, will perceive 
much reason for the opinion. 

9 It appears from these words that the audience were 
entertained with part of the apparatus of an execution/, 
and that Aaron was mounted on a ladder, as ready to ba 
turned off. 

^10 Perhaps this is a stage direction crept into tba tear. 



Scene 11. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



36] 



SCENE II. Rome. Before Titus's House. En- 
ter Tamora, Chiron, aud Demetrius, dis- 
guised. 

Tarn. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, 
I will encounter with Andronicus ; 
And say, I am Revenge, sent from below, 
To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. 
Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, 
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge ; 
Tell him, Revenge is come to join with him, 
And work confusion on his enemies. [They knock. 

Enter Titus, above. 

Tit. Who doth molest my contemplation ? 
Is it your trick, to make me ope the door ; 
That so my sad decrees may fly away, 
And all my study be to no effect ? 
You are deceiv'd : for what I mean to do, 
See here, in bloody lines I have set down ; 
And what is written shall be executed. 

Tarn. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. 

Tit. No ; not a word : How can I grace my talk, 
Wanting a hand to give it action? 
Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more. 

Tarn. If thou didst know me, thou would'st talk 
with me. 

Tit. I am not mad ; I know thee well enough : 
Witness this wretched stump, witness these crim- 
son lines ; 
Witness these trenches, made by grief and care; 
Witness the tiring day, and heavy night ; 
Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well 
For our proud empress, mighty Tamora : 
Is not thy coming for my other hand ? 

Tarn. Know thou, sad man, I am not Tamora ; 
She is thy enemy, and I thy friend : 
I am Revenge ; sent from the infernal kingdom, 
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, 
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 
Come down, and welcome me to this world's light ; 
Confer with me of murder and of death: 
There's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place, 
No vast obscurity, or misty vale, 
Where bloody murder, or detested rape, 
Can couch for fear, but I will find them out ; 
And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, 
Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. 

Tit. Art thou Revenge ? and art thou sent to me, 
To be a torment to mine enemies ? 

Tarn. I am ; therefore come down and welcome 
me. 

Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to thee. 
Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stands ; 
Now give some 'surance that thou art Revenge, 
Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels ; 
And then I'll come, and be thy wagoner, 
And whirl along with thee about the globes. 
Provide thee proper palfreys, black as jet, 
To hale thy vengeful wagon swift away, 
And find out murderers in their guilty caves : 
And, when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel- 
Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; 
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east, , 

Until his very downfall in the sea. 
And day by day I'll do this heavy task, 
So thou destroy Rapine 1 and Murder there. 

Tarn. These are my ministers, and come with me. 

Tit. Are them 2 thy ministers ? what are they 
call'd ? 

Tarn. Rapine and Murder ; therefore called so, 
'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. 

Tit. Good lord, how like the empress' sons they 
are ! 
And you the empress ! But we worldly men 



1 Rape arut rapine appear to have been sometimes 
Used anciently as synonymous terms. Gower, De Con- 
fessione Amaiuis, lib. v ver. 116, uses ravyne in the 
same sense :- 

' For if thou be of suche covine 

To get of love by ravyne, 

Thy love,' &c. 

2 V 



Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. 
O, sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee : 
And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, 
I will embrace thee in it by and by. 

[Exit Titus, from above 

Tarn. This closing with him fits his lunacy: 
Whate'er I forge, to feed his brain-sick fits, 
Do yo'u uphold and maintain in your speeches 
For now he firmly takes me for Revenge ; 
And being credulous in this mad thought, 
I'll make Turn send for Lucius, his son ; 
And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, 
I'll find some cunning practice out of hand, 
To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, 
Or, at the least, make them his enemies. 
See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. 
Enter Titus. 

Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee • 
Welcome, dread fury, to my woful house ; 
Rapine, and Murder, you are welcome too : — 
How like the empress and her sons you are ! 
Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor : — 
Could not all hell afford you such a devil ?— 
For, well I wot, the empress never wags, 
But in her company there is a Moor ; 
And, would you represent our queen aright, 
It were convenient you had such a devil : 
But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? 

Tarn. What would'st thou have us do, Androni- 
cus ? 

Dent. Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. 

Chi. Show me a villain, that hath done a rape, 
And I am sent to be reveng'd on him. 

Tarn. Show me a thousand, that hath done thee 
wrong, 
And I will be revenged on them all. 

Tit. Look round about the wicked streets oJ 
Rome ; 
And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself, 
Good Murder, stab him ; he's a murderer. — 
Go thou with him ; and when it is thy hap, 
To find another that is like to thee, 
Good Rapine, stab him ; he is a ravisher.— 
Go thou with them ; and in the emperor's court 
There is a queen, attended by a Moor : 
Well may'st thou know her by thy own proportion, 
For up and down she doth resemble thee ; 
I pray thee, do on them some violent death, 
They have been violent to me and mine. 

Tarn. Well hast thou lesson'd us ; this shall we do 
But would it please thee, good Andronicus, 
To send for Lucius, thy thrice valiant son, 
Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, 
And bid him come and banquet at thy house : 
When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, 
I will bring in the empress and her sons, 
The emperor himself, and all thy foes ; 
And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, 
And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. 
What says Andronicus to this device ? 

Tit. Marcus, my brother ! — 'tis sad Titus calls 

Enter Marcus. 
Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius ; 
Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths : 
Bid him repair to me, and bring with him 
Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths ; 
Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are: 
Tell him, the emperor and the empress too 
Feast at my house : and he shall feast with them. 
This do thou for my love ; and so let him, 
As he regards his aged father's life. 

Mar. This will I do, and soon return again. 

[Exit. 

Tarn. Now will I hence about thy business, 
And take my ministers along with me. 

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me ; 



2 Similar violations of syntax, according to modern 
notions, are not unfrequent in our elder writers. Thus 
Hobbes, in his History of the Civil Wars :— 'If the king 
give us leave, you or I may as lawfully preach as them 
that do ' 



382 



TITUS ANDRONICUS 



Or else I'll call my brother back again, 
And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. 

Tarn. What say you, boys? will you abide with 
him, 
Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor, 
How I have govern'd our determin'd jest? 
Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, 

[Aside. 
And tarry with him, till I come again. 

Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me 
mad ; 
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices, 
A pair of cursed hell-hounds, and their dam. 

[Aside. 
Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here. 
Tarn. Farewell, Andronicus : Revenge now goes 
To lay a complot to betray thy foes. 

[Exit Tamora. 
Tit. I know, thou dost ; and, sweet Revenge, 

farewell. 
Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd ? 
Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do. — 
Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine ! 
Enter Publius, and others. 
Pub. What's your v ill ? 
Tit. Know you these two? 

Pub. Th' empress' sons, 

J take them, Chiron and Demetrius. 

Tit. Fie, Publius, fie ! thou art too much de- 
ceiv'd ; 
The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name : 
And therefore bind them, gentle Publius ; 
Cuius, and Valentine, lay hands on them : 
Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, 
And now I find it ; therefore bind them sure ; 
. And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. 

[Exit Titus. Pubmus, 4*c. lay hold on 
Chiron and Demetrius. 
Chi. Villains, forbear : we are the empress' sons. 
Pub. And therefore do we what we are com- 
manded. — 
Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word : 
Is he sure bound ? look, that you bind them fast. 
Re-enter Titus Andronicus, with Lavinia ; she 
bearing a Bason, and he a Knife. 
Tit. Come, come, Lavinia ; look, thy foes are 
bound ; — 
Sirs, stop their mouth?, let them not speak to me ; 
But let them hear what fearful words i utter. — 
O, villains, Chiron and Demetrius ! 
Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with 

mud ; 
This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. 
You kill'd her husband ; and, for that vile fault, 
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death : 
Mv hand cut otf, and made a merry jest : 
Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that, more 

dear 
Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, 
Inhuman traitors, vou constraint and forc'd. 
What would vou say, if I should let you speak? 
Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. 
Hark, wretches, how I rnean to martyr you. 
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats ; 
Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold 
The bason, that receives your guilty blood. 
You know, your mother means to feast with me, 
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad, — 
Hark, villains ; I will grind your bones to dust, 
And with your blood and it, I'll make a paste ; 
And of the paste a coffin 1 I will rear, 
And make two pasties of your shameful heads ; 



1 A coffin is the term for the crust of a raised pie. 

2 i. e. her own produce. ' The earth's increase' is 
.he produce of the earth. ' Then shall the earth bring 
forth her increase.* Psalm Ixvii. 6. So in the Tem- 
pest, Act iv. Sc. 1 : 

' Earth's increase and foison plenty.' 

3 'And our content runs parallel with thine, be. the 
consequence of our coming to Rome what it may.' 

4 i. e. beijin the parley." We yet say, he breaks his 
mind. 



Act V. 

And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam, 
Like to the earth, swallow her own increase. 2 
This is the feast that I have bid he' to, 
And this the banquet she shall surfi it on ; 
For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter, 
And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd : 
And now prepare your throats. — Lavinia, come, 

[He cuts their Throats, 
Receive the blood : and, when that they are dead, 
Let me go grind their bones to powder small, 
And with this hateful liquor temper it ; 
And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd. 
Come, come, be every one officious 
To make this banquet ; which I wish may prove 
More stern and bloody than the Centaur's feaet. 
So, now bring them in, for I will play the cook, 
And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. 

[Exeunt, bearing the dead Bodies. 
SCENE III. The same. A Pavilion, with Tables, 

$~c. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths, with 

Aaron, Prisoner. 

Luc. Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind, 
That I repair to Rome, I am content. 

1 Goth. And ours, with thine, 3 befall what fortune 
will. 

Imc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, 
This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil ; 
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, 
Till he be brought unto the empress' face, 
For testimony of her foul proceedings : 
And see the ambush of our friends be strong : 
I fear, the emperor means no good to us. 

Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, 
And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth 
The venomous malice of my swelling heart ! 

Luc. Away, inhuman dog ! unhallow'd slave!— 
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. — 

[Exeunt Goths, with Aaron. Flourish. 
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. 

Enter Saturninus and Tamora, with Tribunes, 
Senators, and others. 
Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns than 

one? 
Luc. What boots it thee, to call thyself a sun ? 
Mar. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break* the 
parle ; 
These quarrels must be quietly debated. 
The feast is ready, which the careful Titus 
Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, 
For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome : 
Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your 
places. 
Sat. Marcus, we will. 

[Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at 
Table. 
Enter Titus, dressed like a Cook, Lavinia, veiled, 
Young Lucius, and others. Titus places the 
Dishes on the Table. 

Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord : welcome, dread 
queen ; 
Welcome, ye warlike Goths ; welcome, Lucius ; 
And welcome, all : although the cheer be poor, 
'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. 
Snt. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus ? 
Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well, 
To entertain your highness and your empress. 
Tarn. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus. 
Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, you were. 
My lord the emperor resolve me this ; 
Was it well done of rash Virginius, 
To slay his daughter with his own right hand, 
Because she was enfore'd, stain'ti, and deflour'd?' 



5 Rowe may have availed himself of this passage in 
The Fair Penitent, where Scinlto asks Calista : — 

' Hast thou not heard what brave Vireinius did ? 

With his own hand he slew his only daughter,' &c. 
Titus Andronicus (as Steevens observes) is incorrect in 
his statement of this occurrence, tor Virginia died un- 
violated. Mr. Boswell seems to think this is qualified 
by his saying that he had more cause to slay hia 
daughter than Virginius. 



Scene III. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



363 



Sat. It was, Andronicus. 

Tit. Your reason, mighty lord ! 

Sat. Because the girl should not survive her 
shame, 
And by her presence still renew his sorrows. 

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual ; 
A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, 
For me, most wretched, to perform the like : — 
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee ; 

[He kills Lavinia. 
And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die ! 

Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural, and unkind! 

Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me 
blind. 
I am as woful as Virginius was : 
And have a thousand times more cause than he 
To do this outrage ; — and it is now done. 

Sat. What, was she ravish'd ? tell, who did the 
deed. 

Tit. Will't please you eat ? will't please your 
highness feed ? 

Tarn. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter 
thus ? 

Tit. Not I; 'twas Chiron, and Demetrius: 
They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue, 
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. 

Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently. 

Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pie ; 
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, 
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.' 
'Tis true, 'tis true ; witness my knife's sharp point. 
[Kilting Tamora. 

Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed. 
[Killing Titus. 

Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed ? 

There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. 

[Kills Saturninus. A great tumult. The 

People in confusion disperse. Marcus, 

Lucius, and their Partisans ascend the Steps 

before Titus's House. 

Mar. You sad-fae'd men, people and sons of 
Rome, 
By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl 
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, 
O, let me teach you how to knit again 
This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, 
These broken limbs again into one body. 

Sen. Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself 
And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, 
Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, 
Do shameful execution on herself. 
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, 
Grave witnesses of true experience, 
Cannot induce you to attend my words, — 
Speak, Rome's dear friend ; [To Lucius] as erst 

our ancestor, 
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse 
To lovesick Dido's sad attending ear, 
The story of that baleful burning night, 
When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's Troy ; 
Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears, 
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in, 
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. — 
My heart is not compact of flint, nor steel ; 
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, 
But floods of tears will drown my oratory, 
And break my very utterance ; even i the time 
When it should move you to attend me most, 
Lending your kind commiseration : 
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale ; 
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. 

Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, 
That cursed Chiron and Demetrius 
Were they that murdered our emperor's brother ; 
And they it were that ravished our sister : 
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded ; 
Our father's tears despis'd ; and basely cozen'd 2 



1 The additions made by Ravenscroft to this scene 
are much of apiece with it: — 
' Thus cramm'd, thou"n bravely fatten'd up for hell, 
4ud thus to Pluto I do serve thee up.' 

[S<abs the Empress 



Of that true hand, that fought Rome's quarrel outj 

And sent her enemies unto the grave. 

Lastly, myself unkindly banished, 

The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, 

To beg relief among Rome's enemies ; 

Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears, 

And op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend : 

And I am the turn'd-fbrth, be it known to you, 

That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood : 

And from her bosom took the enemy's point, 

Sheathing the steel in my advent'roue body. 

Alas ! you know, I am no vaunter, 1 ; 

My scars can witness, dumb although they are, 

That my report is just, and full of truth. 

But, soft ; methinks, I do digress too much, 

Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; 

For when no friends are by, men praise themselves. 

Mar. Now is my turn to speak ; Behold this child, 
[Pointing to the Child in the Arms of an 
Attendant. 
Of this was Tamora delivered ; 
The issue of an irreligious Moor, 
Chief architect and plotter of these woes; 
The villain is alive in Titus' house, 
Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true. 
Now judge, what cause had Titus to revenge 
These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, 
Or more than any living man could bear. 
Now you have heard the truth, what say you, 

Romans ? 
Have we done aught amiss? Show us wherein, 
And, from the place where you behold us now, 
The poor remainder of Andronici 
Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down, 8 
And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, 
And make a mutual closure of our house. 
Speak, Romans, speak ; and, if you say, we shall, 
Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. 

JEmil. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, 
And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, 
Lucius our emperor ; for, well I know, 
The common voice do cry, it shall be so. 

Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail ; Rome's 
royal emperor ! 

Lucius, fyc. descend. 

Mar. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house ; 

[ To an Attendant. 
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, 
To be adjudg'd some direful slaughtering death, 
As punishment for his most wicked life. 

Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail ; Rome' 
gracious governor ! 

Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans ; May I govern so. 
To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her wo ! 
But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, — 
For nature puts me to a heavy task ; — 
Stand all aloof, — but, uncle, draw you near, 
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk: — 
O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, 

[Kisses Titus. 
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, 
The last true duties of thy noble son ! 

Mar. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss. 
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips : 
O, were the sum of these that I should pay 
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them ! 

Luc. Come hither, boy ; come, come, and learn 
of us 
To melt in showers : Thy grandsire lov'd thee well : 
Many a time he dane'd thee on his knee, 
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow ; 
Many a matter hath he told to thee, 
Meet and agreeing with thine infancy ; 
In that respect, then, like a loving child, 
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, 
Because kind nature doth require it so : 
Friends should associate friends in grief and wo: 



And then 'A curtain drawn discovers the heads and 
hands of Demetrius and Chiron hanging up against the 
wall: their bodies in chairs in bloody linen.' 

2 i. e. 'and he basely cozen'd.' 

3 i. e. we the poor remainder, &c. will cast us down. 



364 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Bid him farewell ; commit him to the grave ; 
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. 

Boy. O, grandsire, grandsire ! even with all my 
heart 
Would I were dead, so you did live again ! — ' 
O, lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; 
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. 
Enter Attendants, with Aaron. 

1 Rom. You sad Andronici, have done with woes ; 
Give sentence on this execrable wretch, 
That hath been breeder of these dire events. 

Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish 
him ; 
There let him stand, and rave and cry for food : 
If any one relieves or pities him, 
For the offence he dies. This is our doom : 
Some stav, to see him fasten'd in the earth.' 

Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and fury 
dumb? 
I am no baby, I, that with base prayers, 
I should repent the evil I have done ; 
Ten thousand, worse than ever yet I did, 
Would I perform if I might have my will ; 
If one good deed in all my life I did, 
I do repent it from my very soul. 



1 That justice and cookery may go hand in hand to 
Che conclusion of the play, in Ravenscrou's alteration 
of it, Aaron is at once racked and roasted on the stage. 



Luc. Some loving friends convey the emperor 
hence, 
And give him burial in his father's grave : 
My father, and Lavinia, shall forthwith 
Be closed in our household's monument. 
As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, 
No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds, 
No mournful bell shall ring her burial ; 
But throw her forth to beasts, and birds of prey : 
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity ; 
And, being so, shall have like want of pity. 
See justice done to Aaron, that damn'd Moor 
Bv whom our heavy haps had their beginning 
Then, afterwards, to order well the state ; 
That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt. 



ALL the editors and critics agree in supposing this play 
spurious. I see no reason for differing from them ; for 
the colour of the style is wholly different from that of 
the other plays, and there is an attempt at regular ver 
siflcation,'and artificial closes, not always inelegant, yet 
seldom pleasing, The barbarity of the spectacles, ar.d 
the general massacre which are here exhibited, can 
scarcely be conceived tolerable to any audience, yet we 
are told by Jonson that they were not only borne but 
praised. "That Shakspeare wrote any part, though 
Theobald declares it incontestable, I see no reason for 
believing. JOHNSON 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



PRELIMINARY. REMARKS. 



M! 



[R. DOUCE observes that ' the very great popularity 
of this play in former times may be supposed to have 
ri rtnated from the interest which the story must have 
ed. To trace the fable beyond the period in which 
the favourite romance of Jlpolloniits Tyrius was com- 
posed, would be a vain attempt: that was the probable 
original ; but of its author nothing decisive has been 
discovered. Some have maintained that it was origi- 
nally written in Greek, and -translated into Latin by 
a Christian about the time of the decline of the Roman 
empire ; others have given it to Symposius, a writer 
whom they place in The eighth century, because the 
riddles which occur in the "story are to be found in a 
work entitled Symposii JEnigmata. It occurs in that 
storehouse of popular fiction the Gesta Romanorum, 
and its antiquity is sufficiently evinced by the existence 
of an Anglo Saxon version, mentioned in Wanley's 
list, and "now in Bene't College, Cambridge. One 
Constantine is said to have translated it into modern 
Greek verse, about the year 1500, (this is probably the 
MS. mentioned by Dufresne in the index of authors 
appended' to his Greek Glossary,) and afterwards 
printed at Venice in 1563. It had been printed in Latin 
prose at Augsburg in 1-171, which is probably as early as 
the first dateless impression of the Gesta Romanorum.* 
A very curious fragment of an old metrical romance 
on the subject was in the collection of the late Dr. 
Farmer, and is now in my possession. This we have 
the authority of Mr. Tyrwhitt for placing at an earlier 
period than the time of power. The fragment consists 
of two leaves of parchment, ft'Lich had been converted 
into the cover of a book, for which purpose its edges 
were cut off, some words entirely lost, and the whole 
has suffered so much by time as to be scarcely legible. 
Yet I have considered it so curious a relic of our early 
poetry and language, that I have bestowed some pains 
in deciphering what remains, and have given a speci- 
men or two in the notes toward the close of the play. — 
I will here exhibit a further portion, comprising the 



* ' Towards the latter end of the twelfth century, 
Godfrey of Viterbo, in his Pantheon, or Universal 
Chronicle, inserted this romance as part of the history 
of the third Antiochus, about two hundred years before 
Christ. It begins thus [MS. Reg. 14, c. xi.] :— 

Filia Seleuci stat clara decore 

Matreque defuncta pater arsit in ejus amore 
Res habet effectum, pressa puella dolet. 
The rest is in the same metre, with one pentameter 
Only to two hexameters.' — Tyrichitt. 



name of the writer, who appears to have been Thomas 
Vicary, of Winborn Minster, in Dorsetshire. The 
portion I have given will continue the story of Appo 
lonius (the Vericles of the play) : — 

Wit hys wyf in gret solas 

***** 

He lyvede after this do was, 

JLnd had twey sones by iunge age 

That wax we] farynge men : 

the kvndom of Antioche 

Of Tire and of Cirenen. 

Cahu never werre on hys londe 

Ne hungr. ne no mesayse 

h"t hit yede wcl an hond, 

He lyvede well at ayse. 

He wrot twey bokys of hys lyf, 

That in to hys owene bible he sette 

at byddynge of hys wyf, 

He lafte at Ephese th r he her fette. 

He ru/de hys londe in goud manere, 

Tho he drow to age, 

Jlnategora he mMe king of Tire, 

That was his owene heritage. 

best sone of that empire 

He made king of Aitnage . 

that he louede dure, 

Of Cirenen thr was 

Whan that he hadde al thys y dyght 

Cam deth and axede hys fee, 

hys soule to God al myght 

So woi God thr hit bee, 

Jlnd send? ech housbpnde grace 

For to lovye so hys wyf 

Thut rherysed hem wit oute trespace 

As sche dyde him al here lyf, 

rue on alle lyues space 

Heer to amende our mys'dede, 

In hlisse of heuene to have a place ; 

Amen ye singe here y rede. 

In trouth thys was translatyd 

Almost at Engelondes ende, 

to the makers stat 

Tak sich a mynde, 

have ytake hys bedys on hond 

And sayde hys paf nosf & crede, 

Thomas vicary y understond 

At Wymborne mynstre in that stede, 

y thoughte you have wiyte 

Hit is nought worth to be knowe, 

Ze that woll the sothe y wyte 









PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



365 



Oc thider and men wol the schewe, 

Now Fader & sone & holy gost 

To wham y clemde at my bygynninge, 

And God he hys of myghtes most 

Brynge us alle to a goud endynge, 

Lede us wide the payne of helle 

O God lord & prsones three 

In to the blysse of heuene to dwelle, 
Amen pr Charite. 
Explicit Jlppoloni Tyrus Rex nobilis & vtuosus, &c. 
This story is also related by Gower in his Confessio 
Amantis, lib. vii. p. 175 — 195, edit. 1554. Most of the 
incidents of the play are found in his narration, and a 
few of his expressions are occasionally borrowed. — 
Gower, by his own acknowledgment,, took his story 
from the Pantheon of Godfrey of Viterbo ; and the 
author of Pericles professes to have followed Gower. 

Chaucer also refers to the story in The Man of Lawe's 
Prologue : — 

' Or elles of Tyrius Appolonius, 
How that the cursed king Antiochus, 
Beraft his doughter of hire maidenhede ; 
That is so horrible a tale for to rede,' &.c. 
A French translation from the Latin prose, evidently of 
the fifteenth century, is among the Royal MSS. in the 
British Museum, 20, c. ii. There are several more 
recent French translations of the story : one under the 
title of ' La Chronique d'Appolin Roi de Thyr,' 4to. 
Geneva, blk. I. no date. Another by Gilles Corrozet, 
ParLs, 1530, Svo. It is also printed in the seventh vol. 
of the Histoires Tragiques de Belleforest, 12mo. 1604 ; 
and modernised by M. Le Brun, was printed at Am- 
sterdam jn 1710, and Paris in 1711. 120. There is an 
abstract of the story in the Melanges tirees d'une 
grande Bibliotheque, vol. lxiv. p. 265.' 

The first English prose version of the story, trans- 
lated by Robprt Copland, was printed by Wynkyn de 
Worde, 1510. It was again translated by T. Twine, 
and originally published by W. Howe, 1576. Of this 
there was a second impression in 1607, under the title 
of The Patterne of painful Adventures, containing the 
most excellent, pleasant, and variable Historie of the 
strange Accidents that befel unto Prince Appolonius, 
the Lady Lucina his Wife, and Tharsia his Daughter, 
&c. translated into English by T. Twine, Gent. The 
poet seems to have made use of this prose narration as 
well as of Gower. 

' That the greater part, if not the whole, of this 
drama, was the co?nposition of Shakspeare, and that it 
is to be considered as his earliest dramatic effort, are 
positions, of which the first has been rendered highly 
probable by the elaborate disquisitions of Messrs. 
Steevena and Malone, and may possibly be placed in a 
clearer point of view by a more condensed and lucid 
arrangement of the testimony already produced, and by 
a further discussion of the merits and peculiarities of 
the play itself, while the second will, we trust, receive 
additional support by inferences legitimately deduced 
from a comprehensive survey of scattered and hitherto 
insulated premises.' 

The evidence required for the establishment of a 
high degree of probability under the first of these 
positions, necessarily divides itself into two parts ; the 
external and the internal evidence. The former com- 
mences with the original edition of Pericles, which was 
entered on the Stationers' books by Edward Blount, one 
of the printers of the first folio edition of Shakspeare's 
plays, on the 20th of May, 1608, but did not pass the 
press until the subsequent year, when it was published, 
not, as might have been ex.pected, by Blount, but by 
one Henry Gosson, who placed Shakspeare's name at 
full length in the title page. It is worthy of remark, 
also, that this edition was entered at Stationers' hall, 
together with Antony and Cleopatra, and that it (and 
the three following editions, which were also in quarto) 
was styled in the title page the much admired play of 
Pericles. As the entry, however, was by Blount, and 
the edition by Gosson, it is probable that the former had 
been anticipated by the latter, through the procurance 
of a play house copy. It may also be added, that 
Peiicles was performed at Shakspeare's own theatre, 
The Globe. The next ascription of this play to our 
author is in a poem entitled The Times Displayed, in 
Six Sesti/ads, by S. Sheppard, 4to. 1646, dedicated to 
Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and containing in 
jve nnith stanza of the sixth Sestiad a positive assertion 
f Shakspeare's property in this drama : — 

' See him whose tragic sceans Euripides 
Doth equal, and with Sophocles we may 
Compare great Shakspear ; Aristophanes 
N tver like him his fancy could display, 
*• , M .tnes-s the Prince of Tyre his Pericles 



This high eulogium on Pericles received a direct con- 
tradiction very shortly afterwards from the pen of an 
obscure poet named Tatham, who bears, however, an 
equally strong testimony as to Shakspeare's being the 
author of the piece, which he thus presumes to 
censure : — 

' But Shakspeare, the plebeian driller, was 
Founder'd in his Pericles, and must not pass ' 

To these testimonies in 1646 and 1652, full and tin 
qualified, and made at no distant period from the death 
of the bard to whom they relate, we have to add the still 
more forcible and striking declaration of Dryden, who 
tells us in 1677, and in words as strong and decisive as 
he could select, that — 

' Shakspeare's oxen muse, his Perirles first bore.' 
' The only drawback on this accumulation of external 
evidence is the omission of Pericles in the first edition 
of our author's works : a negative fact which can have 
little weight, when we recollect that both the memory 
and judgment of Heminge and Condell, the poet's 
editors, were so defective, that they had forgotten 
Troilvs and Cressida, until the entire folio, and the 
table of contents, had been printed ; and admitted Titus 
Andronicus and the Historical Play of King Henry 
the Sixth, probably for no other reasons than that the 
former had been, from its unmerited popularity, 
brought forward by Shakspeare on his own theatre, 
though there is sufficient internal evidence to prove, 
without the addition of a single line ; and because the 
latter, with a similar predilection of the lower orders in 
its favour, had obtained a similar, though not a more 
laboured attention from our poet, and was therefore 
deemed by his editors, though very unnecessarily, a 
requisite introduction, to the two plays on the reign of 
that monarch, which Shakspeare had really new- 
modelled.' 

' It cannot consequently be surprising, as they had 
forgotten Troilns and, Cressida until (he folio had been 
printed, they should have forgotten Pericles until the 
same folio had been in circulation, and when it was too 
late to correct the omission ; an error which the second 
folio has, without doubt or examination, blindfy copied. 

' If the external evidence in support of Shakspeare 
being the author of the greater part of this play be 
striking, the internal must be pronounced still more so, 
and, indeed, absolutely decisive of the question ; for. 
whether we consider the style and phraseology, or the 
imagery, sentiment, and humour, the approximation to 
our author's uncontested dramas appears so close, 
frequent, and peculiar, as to stamp irresistible con- 
viction on the mind. 

' The result has accordingly been such as might have 
been predicted, under the assumption of the play being 
genuine ; for the more it has been examined the more 
clearly has Shakspeare's large property in it been 
established. It is curious, indeed, to note the increased 
tone of confidence which each successive commentator 
has assumed, in proportion as he has weighed the 
testimony arising from the piece itself. Roue, in his 
first edition, says, "it is owned that some part of 
Pericles certainly was written by him, particularly the 
last act :" Dr. Farmer observes that the hand of 
Shakspeare may be seen in the latter part of the 
play : Dr. Percy remarks that " more ofthe phraseology 
used in the genuine dramas of Shakspeare prevails 
in Pericles than in any of the other six doubted 
plays." Steevens says, " I admit without reserve that 
Shakspeare — 

' whose hopeful colours 

Advance a half fae'd sun, striving to shine, 7 

is visible in many scenes throughout the play ; — the 
purpura panni are Shakspeare's, and the rest the 
production of some inglorious and forgotten play- 
wright ;"— adding, in a subsequent paragraph, that 
Pericles is valuable, "as the engravings of Nark 
Antonio are valuable not only on account of their 
beauty, but because they are suppposed to have been 
executed under the eye of Raffaelle ;" Malone gives it 
as his corrected opinion, that " the congenial sen- 
timents, the numerous expressions bearing a striking 
similitude to passages in Shakspeare's undisputed 
plays, some of the incidents, the situation of many of 
the persons, and in various places the colour of the 
style, all these combine to set his seal on the play 
before us, and furnish us with internal and irresistible 
proofs, that a considerable portion of this piece, as it 
now appears, was written by him." On this ground 
lie thinks the greater part of the three last acts may be 
safely ascribed to him ; and that his hand may be 
traced occasionally in the other two. " Many will fcg 
of opinion (says Mr. Douce) that it contains more that 



S66 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Shakspeare might hare written than either Love's 
Labour's Lost, or All's Well that Ends WelL 

' For satisfactory proof that the style, phraseology, 
and imagery of the greater part of this play are truly 
Shaksp. \rian, the reader has only to attend to the 
numerous coincidences which, in these respects, occur 
between Pericles and the poet's subsequent productions ; 
similitudes so striking, as to leave no doubt that they 
originated from one and the same source. 

' If we attend, however, a little further to the dra- 
matic construction of Pericles, to its humour, sentiment, 
and character, not only shall we find additional evidence 
in favour of its being, in a great degree, the product of 
our author, but fresh cause, it is expected, for award- 
ing it a higher estimation than it has hitherto obtained.' 

Dr. Drake enters much more at large into the argu- 
ment for establishing this as a juvenile effort of our 
great poet, and for placing the date of its composition 
in the year 1590, but we must content ourselves with 
referring the reader to his work, for these particulars. — 
He continues : — 

' Steevens thinks that this play was oridnally 
named Pyrochs, after the hero of Sidney's Arcadia, the 
character, as he justly observes, not bearing the 
smallest affinity to that ofthe Athenian statesman. " It 
is remarkable," says he, "that many of our ancient 
writers were ambitious to exhibit Sidney's worthies on 
the stage, and when his subordinate heroes were 
advanced to such honour, how happened it that 
Pyrociea, their leader, should be overlooked? Musi- 
dorus, (his companion,) Argalus and Parthenia, Pha- 
lantus and Eudora, Andmmana, &.c. furnished titles for 
different tragedies •, and perhaps Pyroc/is, in the 
present instance, was ejefraudecf of a like distinction. 
The names invented or employed by Sidney had once 
such popularity, that they were sometimes borrowed by 
poets who did 'not profess to follow the direct current of 
his fables, or attend to the strict preservation of his 
characters. I must add, that the Appolyn ofthe Story- 
book and Gower could only have been rejected to make 
room for a more favourite name ; yet however con- 
ciliating the name of Pyrociea might have been, that of 
Pericles could challenge no advantage with regard to 
general predilection. All circumstances therefore con- 
sidered, it is not improbable that Shakspeare designed 
his chief character to be called Pyrociea, not Pi rich s, 
however ignorance or accident might have shuffled the 
latter (a name of almost similar sound) into the place 
ofthe former." This conjecture will amount almost 
to certainty if we diligently compare Pericles with the 
Pyrociea ofthe Arcadia; the same romantic, versatile, 
and sensitive disposition is ascribed to both characters, 
and several of the incidents pertaining to the latter are 
found mingled with the adventures of (he former per- 
sonage, while, throughout the play, the obligations of 
its author to various other parts ofthe romance may be 
frequently and distinctly traced, not only in the as- 
sumption of an image or a sentiment, but in the 
adoption of the very words of his once popular pre- 
decessor, proving incontestiblV the poet's familiarity 
with and study of the Arcadia to have been very 
considerable. 

'However wild and extravagant the fable of Pericles 
may appear, if we consider its numerous chorusses, its 
pageantry, 'and dumb shows, its continual succession 



of incidents, and the great length of time which they 
occupy, yet it is, we may venture to assert, the most 
spirited and pleasing specimen ofthe nature and fabric 
of our earliest romantic drama which we possess, and 
the most valuable, as it is the only one with which 
Shakspeare has favoured us. We should therefore 
welcome this play as an admirable example of " the 
neglected favourites of our ancestors, with something 
ofthe same feeling that is experienced in the reception 
of an old and valued friend of our fathers or grand- 
fathers. Nay, we should like it the better for its gothic 
appendages of pageants and chorusses, to explain the 
intricacies of the fable ; and we can see no objection to 
the dramatic representation even of a series of ages in 
a single night, that docs not apply to every description 
of poem, which leads in perusal from the fireside at 
which we are sitting, to a succession of remote periods 
and distant countries. In these matters faith is all- 
powerful ; and without her influence, the most chastely 
coKI and critically correct of dramas is precisely as 
unreal as the Midsummer Night's Dream, or the 
Wintefa Tale." 

' A still more powerful attraction in Pericles is, that 
the interest accumulates as the story proceeds; for, 
though many of the characters in the earlier part of 
the drama, such as jinliochus and his Daughter, 
Simonides and Thaisa, Cleon and Diomj :u, disappear 
and drop into oblivion, their places are supplied by 
more pleasing and efficient agents, who are not leas 
fugacious, but better calculated for theatric effect. The 
Inequalities of this production are, indeed, considerable, 
and only to be accounted for, with probability, on the 
supposition that Shakspeare either accepted a coadjutor, 
or improved on the rough sketch of a previous writer, 
the former, for many reasons, seems entitled to a pre- 
ference, and will explain why, in compliment to his 
dramatic friend, he has suffered a few passages, and 
one entire scene, of a character totally dissimilar to his 
own style and mode of composition, to stand uncor- 
rected ; for who does not perceive that of the closing 
scene of the second act not a sentence or a word 
escaped from the pen of Shakspeare. 

' No play, in fact, more openly discloses the hand of 
Shakspeare than Pericles, and fortunately his share in 
its composition appears to have been very considerable , 
he may be distinctly, though not frequently, traced in 
the first and second acts; after Which, feeling the 
incompetency of his fellow-labourer, he seems to have 
assumed almost the entire management of the re- 
mainder, nearly the whole ofthe third, fourth, and 
fifth acts bearing indisputable testimony to the genius 
and execution ofthe sivat master.'* 

'The most corrupt of Shakspearq's other dramas, 
compared with Pericles, is purity itself. The metre is 
seldom attended to ; verse is frequently printed as 
prose, and the grossest errors abound in every page 
I mention these circumstances only as an apology to 
the reader for having taken somewhat more licence 
with this drama than would have been justifiable if the 
old copies had been less disfigured by the negligence 
and ignorance ofthe printer or transcriber.' — Ma-Tone. 



* Shakspeare and his Times, by Dr. Drake, vol. ii. 
p. 262 and seq. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



Antiochus, King of Antioch. 
Pericles, Prince of Tyre. 
Helicanos, ) , T ', .._ 
Es'CANEs, , lwo Lords "/Tyre, 
Simonides, King 0/ Pentapolis.* 
Cleon, Governor of Tharsus. 
Lysimachus, Governor o/Mitylene. 
Cerimon, a Lord of Ephesus. 
Thaliard, a Lord of Antioch. 
Philemon, Servant to Cerimon. 
Leonine, Servant to Dionyza. Marshal. 



* We meet with Pentapolitana regio, a country in 
Africa, consisting of fee cities. Pentapolis occurs in 
the thirty-seventh chapter of King Appolyn of Tyre, 
1510 ; in Gower ; the Gesta Romanorum ; and Twine's 
translation from it. Its site is marked in an ancient map 
ofthe world, MS. in the Cotton Library, Brit. Mus. Ti- 
berius, b. v. In the original Latin romance of Apollo- 
nius Tyrius it is most accurately called Pentapolis Cy- 
renoruin and was, as both Stra'bo and Ptolemy inform 



A Pandar, and his Wife. Boult, their Servant. 
Gower, as Chorus. 

The Daughter of Antiochus. 
Dionvza, Wife to Cleon. 
Thaisa, Daughter to Simonides. 
Marina, Daughter to Pericles and Thaisa. 
Lvchorida, Nurse to Marina. Diana. 

Lords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pi- 
rates, Fishermen, and Messengers, fyc. 
SCENE, dispersedly in various Countries.^ 



us, a district of Cyrenaica in Africa, comprising five 
cities, of' which Cyrene was one. 

t That the reader may know through how many re- 
gions the scene of this drama is dispersed, it is necessary 
to observe that Antioch was the metropolis of Syria; 
Ti/re a city of Phoenicia in Asia; Tharsus, the metropolis 
of Cilicia, a country of Asia Minor ; Mitylene, the capital 
of Lesbos, an island in the TEgcan sea ; and Ephesus, 
the capital of Ionia, a country ofthe Lesser Asia. 



Scene I. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



307 



ACT I. 

Enter Gower. 1 Before the Palace of Antioch. 
To sing a song tha'. old 2 was sung, 
From ashes ancient Gower is come ; 3 
Assuming man's infirmities. 
To glad your ear, and please your eyes. 
It hath been sung at festivals, 
On ember-eves, and holy ales ;* 
And lords and ladies in their lives 
Have read it for restoratives : 
The purchase 5 is to make men glorious ; 
Et boiium quo antiquius, eo melius. 
If you, born in these latter times, 
When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes, 
And that to hear an old man sing, 
May to your wishes pleasure bring, 
I life would wish, and that I might 
Waste it for you, like taper-light. — 
This Antioch then, Antiochus the Great 
Built up this city for his chiefest seat ; 
The fairest in all Syria; 

41 tell you what mine authors say:) 
'his king unto him took a pheere, 6 
Who died and left a female heir, 
So buxom, blithe, and full of face, 7 
As heaven had lent her all his grace; 
With whom the father liking took, 
And her to incest did provoke : 
Bad child, worse father ! to entice his own 
To evil, should be done by none. 
By custom what they did begin, 
Was, with long use, account 8 no sin. 
The beauty of this sinful dame 
Made many princes thither frame, 9 
To seek her as a bed-fellow, 
In marriage-pleasures playfellow: 
Which to prevent, he made a law 
(To keep her still, and men in awe,) 10 
That whoso ask'd her for his wife, 
His riddle told not, lost his life: 
So for her many a wight did die, 
As yon grim looks do testify. 11 



1 Chorus, in the character of Gower, an ancient Eng- 
lish poet, who has related the story of this play in his 
Confessio Jlmantis. 

2 i. e. that of old. 

3 The defect of metre (sung and come being no 
rhymes) points out that we should read — 

'From ancient ashes Gower sprung;' 
alluding to the restoration of the Thcenix. 

4 That is, say3 Dr. Farmer, by whom this emendation 
was made, church-ales. The old copy has 'holy days.' 
Gower's speeches were certainly intended to rhyme 
throughout. 

5 'The purchase' is the reading of the old copy; 
which Steevens, amoSig other capricious alterations, 
changed to purpose. That Steevens and Malone were 
ignorant of the true meaning of the wordpurchase, I have 
shown, King Henry IV. part i. act ii. sc. 1. It was ancient- 
ly used to signify gain., profit; any good or advantage 
obtained ; as in the following instances : — James the 
First, when he made the extravagant gift of 30,000^. 
to Rich, said, 'You think now that you have a great 
purchase ; but I am far happier in giving you that sum 
than you can lie in receiving it.' 

' No purchase passes a good wife, no losse „ • 
Is, than a bad wife a more cursed crosse.' 

Chapman's Georgics of Hesiod, b. ii. 44, p- 32. 
' Long would it be ere thou hast purchase bought, 
Or welthier wexen by such idle thought.' 

Hall, Satire ii. b. 2. 

6 Wife ; the word signifies a mate or companion. 

7 i. e. completely exuberantly beautiful. A. full for- 
tune, in Othello, means a complete one. 

9 Account for accounted. 

9 i. e. shape or direct their course thither. 

10 ' To keep her still to himself, and to deter others 
from demanding her in marriage.' 

11 Gower must he supposed to point to the scene of 
the palace gate at Antioch, on which the heads of those 
unfortunate wights were fixed. 

12 Which (the judgment of your eye) best can justify, 
i. e. prove its resemolance to the ordinary course of 
nature. Thus afterwards: — 

' When thou shalt kneel andjustify in knowledge.' 
Ii It does not appear in the present drama that the 



What now ensues, to the judgment of youi eye 
I give, my cause who best can justify. 12 [Exit, 
SCENE I. Antioch. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Antiochus, Pericles, and Attendants. 

Ant. Young prince of Tyre, 13 you have at larga 
receiv'd 
The danger of the task you undertake. 

Per. I have, Antiochus, and with a soul 
Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, 
Think death no hazard, in this enterprise. [Music, 

Ant. Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, 1 * 
For the embracements even of Jove himself; 
At whose conception (till Lucina reign'd, 
Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence,) 1 * 
The senate-house of planets all did sit, 
To knit in her their best perfections. 

Enter the Daughter of Antiochus. 

Per. See, where she comes, apparell'd like ths 
spring, 
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king 
Of every virtue gives renown to men! 18 
Her face the book of praises, 17 where is read 
Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence 
Sorrow were ever ras'd, and testy wrath 
Could never be her mild companion. 18 
Ye gods that made me man, and sway in love, 
That have inflam'd desire in my breast, 
To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, 
Or die in the adventure, be my helps, 
As I am son and servant to your will, 
To compass such a boundless happiness! 

Ant. Prince Pericles, 

Per. That would be son to great Antiochus. 

Ant. Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, ' 
With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd ; 
For death-like dragons here affright thee hard : 
Her face, like heaven, entieeththee to view 
Her countless glory, which desert must gain : 
And which, without desert, because thine eye 
Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die. 
Yon sometime famous princes, like thyself, 
Drawn by report, advent'rous by desire, 
Tell thee with speechless tongues, and semblance 

pale, 
That without covering, save yon field of stars, 49 



father of Fericle3 is living. By prince, therefore, 
throughout this play, we are to understand prince reg- 
nant. In the Gesta Romanorum, Appolonius is king of 
Tyre; and Appolyn in Copland's translation from the 
French. In Twine's translation he is repeatedly called 
prince of Ti/rus, as he is in Gower. 

14 In the old copy this line stands : — 

' Music, bring in our daughter clotbed like a bride.' 
Malone thinlts it a marginal direction, inserted in the 
text by mistake. Mr. Boswell thinks it only an Alex- 
andrine, and adds, "It does not seem probable that 
music would commence at the close of Pericles' speech, 
without an order from the kiiiL'.' 

15 The words trhose and her refer to the daughter of 
Antiochus. The construction is, ' at whose conception 
the senate-house of planets all did sit,' &c. ; and the 
words, 'till Lucina reign'd, Nature,' &c. are paren- 
thetical. The leading thought may have been taken 
from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii. : — l T/ie senate-house of 
the planets was at no time to set for the decreeing of 
perfection in a man,' &c. Thus also Milton, Paradise 
Lost, viii.511 : 

' all heaven, 

And happy constellations on that hour 
, Shed their selectest influence.' 

18 ' The Graces are her subjects, and her thoughts 
the sovereign of every virtue that gives renown to men.' 
The ellipsis in the second line is what obscured this 
passage, which Steevens would have altered, because 
he did not comprehend it. 

47 ' Her face is a book where may be read all that is 
praiseworthy, every thing that is the cause of admira- 
tion and praise.' Shakspeare has often this image. 

IS By ' Iter mild companion' ' the companion of hei 
mildness' is meant. 

19 Hesperides is here taken for the name of the gar- 
den in which the golden apples were kept ; as we find it 
in Love's Labour's Lost, Act iv. 

20 Thus Lucan, lib. vii : — 

' coelo tegitur qui non habet m-nam. 1 



asp 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act I. 



They here stand martyrs, slain in CupicPs wars ; 
And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist, 
For noing 1 on death's net, whom none resist. 

Per. Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught 
RIy frail mortality to know itself, 
And by those fearful objects to prepare 
This body, like 10 them, to what I must : 2 
For death remember'd, should be like a mirror, 
Who tells us, life's but breath ; to trust it, error. 
I'll make my will, then ; and as sick men do, 
Who know the world, see heaven, but feeling wo, 3 
Gripe not at earthly joys, as erst they did ; 
So I bequeath a happy peace to you, 
And all good men, as every prince should do ; 
My riches to the earth from whence they came : 
But my unspotted fire of love to you. 

[To the Daughter of Antiochus. 
Thus ready for the way of life or death, 
I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus. 

Ant. Scorning advice. — Read the conclusion then; 
Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, 
As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed. 
Daugh. In all, save that, may'st thou prove pros- 
perous ! 
In all, save that, I wish thee happiness ! 4 

Per. Like a bold champion, I assume the lists, 
Nor ask advice of any other thought 
But faithfulness, and courage. 5 

[He reads the Riddle.] 

J am no viper, yet I feed 

On mother 's flesh which did me breed : 

J sought a husband, in ivhich labour, 

J found that kindness in a father. 

He's father, son, and husband mild, 

I, mother, wife, and yet his child. 

How they may be, and yet in two, 

As you will live, resolve it you. 
Sharp physic is the last : e but O, you powers! 
That give heaven countless eyes' to view men's 

acts, 
Why cloud they not their sights perpetually 8 
If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? 
Fair glass of light, I lov'd you. and could still, 

[Takes hold of the Hand of the Prinotst. 
Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill : 
But I must tell you, — now, my thoughts revolt; 
For he's no man on whom perfections wail, 9 
That knowing sin within, will touch the gate. 
You're a fair viol, and your sense the strings : 
Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, 



1 i. e. 'for fear of going,' or ' lest they should go.' — 
Dr. Percy proposed to read, ' in death's net;' but on 
and in were anciently used the one lor the other. 

2 That is, ' to prepare this body for that state to 
which I must come.' 

3 ' I will'act as sick men do ; who having had expe- 
rience of the pleasures of the world, and only a vision- 
ary and distant prospect of heaven, have neglected the 
latter for the former ; but at length, feeling them- 
selves decaying, grasp no longer at temporal pleasures, 
but prepare calmly for futurity.' 

4 The old copy reads : — 

' Of all said yet, may'st thou prove prosperous ; 
Of all said yet, I wish thee happiness !' 
The emendation is Mr. Mason's. 

o This is from the third book of Sidney's Arcadia : — 
'Whereupon asking advice of no other thought but 
faithfulness and courage, he presently lighted from 
his own horse,' &c. 

6 i. e. the intimation in the last line of the riddle, that 
his life depends on resolving it : which he properly 
enough calls sharp phi/sic, or a bitter potion. 

7 Thus in A Midsummer Night's Dream : — 

' who more engilds the night 

Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light. 

8 stars hide your fires, 

Let not light see,' &c. Macbeth. 

9 i. e. he is no perfect or honest man, that knowing, 
&c. 

10 This is a stroke of nature. The incestuous king 
cannot bear to see a rival touch the hand of the woman 
he loves. His jealousy resembles that of Antony ; — 

' to let him be familiar with 

My play-fellow, your hand ; this kingly seal 
And plighter of high hearts.' 



Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to 

harken ; 
But, being play'd upon before your time, 
Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime : 
Good sooth, I care not for you, 

Ant. Prince Pericles, touch not, 10 upon thy hie, 
For that's an article within our law, 
As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expir'd ; 
Either expound now, or receive your sentence. 

Per. Great king, 
Few love to hear the sins they love to act ; 
'Twould 'braid yourself too near for me to tell it„ 
Who has a book of all that monarchs do, 
He's more secure to keep it shut, than shown ; 
For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind,j 
Blows dust in others' eyes, tp spread itself; 1 ' 
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, 
The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear 
To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole 

casts 
Copp'd 12 hills towards heaven, to tell, the earth is 

throng'd 
By man's oppression ;' 3 and the poor worm' 4 doth 

die for't. 
Kings are earth's gods : in vice their law's their will • 
And if Jove stray, who dares say, Jove doth ill ? 
It is enough you know ; and it is fit, 
What being more known grows worse, to smother it. 
All love the womb that their first beings bred, 
Then give my tongue like leave to love my head. 

Ant. Heaven, that I had thy head ! he has found 
the meaning ; — 
But I will gloze 15 with him. [Aside.] Young prince 

of Tyre, 
Though by the tenor of our strict edict, 
Your exposition misinterpreting. 
We might proceed to cancel of your days ; 16 
Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree 
As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise : 
Forty days longer we do respite you ; 
If by which time our secret be undone, 
This mercy shows, we'll joy in such a son : 
And until then, your entertain shall be, 
As doth befit our honour, and your worth. 

[Exeunt Ant. his Daughter, and Attend. 

Per. How courtesy would seem to cover sin! 
When what is done is like a hypocrite, 
Tile which is good in nothing but in sight. 
If it be true that I interpret false, 
Then were it certain, you were not so bad, 
As with foul incest to abuse your soul ; 
Where 1 ' now you're both a father and a son, 



Malefort, in Massinger's Unnatural Combat, expresses 
the like impatient jealousy, when Beaufort touches 
his daughter Theocrine, to whom he was betrothed.) 

11 ' The man who knows the ill practices of princes is 
unwise if he reveals what he knows ; for the publisher 
of vicious actions resembles the wind, which while it 
passes along, blows dust into men's eyes. When the 
blast is over, the eyes that have been affected by the 
dust, though sore, see clear enough to stop for the fu- 
ture the air that would annoy them.' Pericles means 
by this similitude to show the danger of revealing ths 
crimes of princes ; for as they feel hurt by the publica- 
tion of their shame, they will of course prevent the 
repetition of it, by destroying the person who divulged. 
He pursues the same idea in the instance of the mole. 

12 'Copped hills' are hills rising in a conical form, 
something of the shape of a sugarloaf. Thus in Hor- 
man's Vulgaria, 1519 : ' Sometime men wear copped 
caps like a sugar loaf.' So Baret : ' To make copped, 
or sharpe at top ; cacumino.' In Anglo-Saxon, cop is a 
head. 

13 The earth is oppressed by the injuries which crowd 
upon her. Steevens altered throng'd to wrong'd; 
but apparently without necessity. 

14 The mole is called poor worm as a term of com- 
miseration. In The Tempest, Prospero, speaking to 
Miranda, says, ' Poor worm, thou art infected.' The 
mole remains secure till it has thrown up those hillocks 
which betray his course to the mole-catcher. 

15 Flatter, insinuate. 

16 To the destruction of ycur life. 

17 Where has here the power of whereas; as in 
other passages of these plays. It occurs again with the 
same meaning in Act ii. Sc. 3, of this play 



SuENE II. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



S69 



By your untimely claspings with your child, 
(Which pleasure fits a hushand, not. a father ;) 
And she an eater of her mothers flesh, 
By the defiling of her parent's bed ; 
And both like sepents are, who though they feed 
On sweetest flowers, yet they poison oreed. 
Antioch, farewell ! for wisdom sees, those men 
Blush not in actions blacker than the night, 
Will shun 1 no course to keep them from the light. 
One sin, I know, another doth provoke ; 
Murder's as near to lust, as flame to smoke. 
Poison and treason are the hands of sin, 
Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame : 
Then, lest my life be cropp-d to keep you clear, 2 
By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear. [Exit. 
Re-enter Antiochus. 

Ant. He hath found the meaning, for the which 
we mean 
To have his head. 

He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, 
Nor tell the world, Antiochus doth sin 
In such a loathed manner : 
And therefore instantly this prince must die ; 
For by his fall mv honour must keep high. 
Who attends on us there ? 

Enter Thaliarb. 

Thai. Do'ii your highness call ? 

Ant. Thaliard, you're of our chamber, and our 
mind 
Partakes 3 her private actions to your secrecy ; 
And for your faithfulness we will advance you. 
Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold ; 
We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him; 
It fits thee not to ask the reason why, 
Because we bid it. Say, is it done ? 

Thai. My lord, 

'Tis done. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Ant. Enough. 
Let. your breath cool yourself, telling your haste. 4 

Mess. My lord, Prince Pericles is fled. 

[Exit Messenger. 

Ant. As thou 

Wilt live, flv after: and, as an arrow, shot 
From a well experiene'd archer, hits the mark 
His eyw doth level at, so ne'er return, 
Unless thou sav, Prince Pericles is dead. -. 

Thai. My lord, if I 
Can get him' once within my pistol's length, 
I'll make him sure ; so farewell to your highness. 

[Exit. 

Ant. Thaliard, adieu ! till Pericles be dead, 
My heart can lend no succour to myhead. [Exit. 
SCENE II. Tyre. A Room in the Palace. Enter 
Pericles, Helicanus, and other Lords. 

Per. Let none disturb us : Why should this 
change of thought? 5 
The sad companion, dull-ey'd melancholy, 
By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour, 
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, 

1 The old copy erroneously reads show. The emen- 
dation is Malone's. The expression here is elliptical : — 
'For wisdom sees that those men who do not blush to 
commit actions blacker than the night, will not shun 
any course in order to preserve them from being made 
public' 

2 ' To prevent any suspicion from falling on you.' — 
So in Macbeth :— 

' always thought, that I 

Require a clearness.' , 

3 In The Winter's Tale the word partake is used in 
an active sense for participate : — 

' your exultation 

Partake to every one.' 

4 These words are addressed to the Messenger, who 
enters in haste. 

5 ' Why should this change of thought ?' This 

is the reading of the old copies,; which Steevens 
changed to, ' Why this charge of thoughts ?' I think 
without necessity. Pericles, addressing the Lords, says, 
' Let none disturb us.' Then apostrophising himself, 
says, 'Why should this change in our thoughts disturb 

MS ?' 

57 



(The tomb where grief should sleep,) can breed 

me quiet ! 
Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes 

shun them, 
And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch, 
Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here : 
Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, 
Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. 
Then it is thus : the passions of the mind, 
That have their first conception by misdread, 
Have after-nourishment and life by care ; 
And what was first but fear what might be done, 
Grows elder now, and cares it be not done. 
And so with me ; the great Antiochus, 
('Gainst whom I am too little to contend, 
Since he's so great, can make his will his act, ) 
Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence , 
Nor boots it me to say, I honour him, 6 
If he suspect I may dishonour him : 
And what may make him blush in being known, 
He'll stop the course by which it might be known . 
With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land, 
And with the ostent of war 7 will look so huge, 
Amazement shall drive courage from the state ; 
Our men be vanquish'd, ere they do resist, 
And subjects punish'd, that ne'er thought offence : 
Which care of them, not pity of myself, 
(Who am 8 no more but as the tops of trees, 
Which, fence the roots they grow by, and defeud 

them,) 
Makes both my body pine, and soul to languish 
And punish that before, that he would punish. 

1 Lord. Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast ! 

2 Lord. And keep your mind, till you return to us, 
Peaceful and comfortable ! 

Hel. Peace, peace, my lords, and give experience 
tongue. 
They do abuse the king, that flatter him : 
For flattery is the bellows blows up sin ; 
The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark, 
To which that breath 9 gives heat and stronger 

•glowing ; 
Whereas reproof, obedient, and in order, 
Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err, 
When Signior Sooth 10 here does proclaim a peace 
He flatters you, makes war upon your life : 
Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; 
I cannot be much lower than my knees. 

Per. All leave us else ; but let your cares o'erloob 
What shipping, and what lading's in our haven, 
And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords.] Helicanus, 

thou 
Hast moved us : what seest thou in our looks ? 

Hel. An angry brow, dread lord. 

Per. If there be such a dart in princes' frowns, 
How durst thy tongue move anger to our face ? 

Hel. How dare the plants look up to heaven, from 
whence 
They have their nourishment ? 

Per. Thou know'st I have power 

To take thy life. 

Hel. [Kneeling.] I have ground the axe myself; 
Do yott but strike the blow. 

Per. Rise, pr'ythee rise : 



6 Him was supplied by Rowe for the sake of the 
metre. 

7 Old copies : — 

'And with the stent of war will look so huge.' 
The emendation, suggested by Mr. Tyrwhitt, is con- 
firmed by the following passage in Decker's Entertain- 
ment to King James I. 1G04 : — 

' And why you bear alone th' ostent of warre.'' 
Again in Chapman's translation of Homer's Batracho 
muomachia> — 

' Both heralds bearing the oslents of war.' 
S The old copy reads, 'Who once no more,' &c. 
The emendation is by Steevens. Malone reads, ' Who 
wants no more,' &c. 

9 i. e. the breath of flattery. The word spark, was 
here accidentally repeated by the comjositor in the old 
copy. 

10 A near kinsman of this gentleman is mentioned ii- 
The Winter's Tale :— ' And his pond fished by his nex» 
neighbour, by Sir Smile.' 
J 



370 



PERICLES, PRINCE OP TYRfc. 



Act L 



Sit down, sit down ; thou art no flatterer : 

I thank thee for it ; and high heaven forbid, 

That kings should let their ears hear, their faults 

Kid! 1 
Fit counsellor, and servant for a prince, 
Who by thy wisdom mak'st a prince thy servant, 
What would'st thou have me do ? 

Hel. With patience bear 

Such griefs as you do lay upon yourself. 

Per. Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus ; 
Who minister'st a potion unto me, 
That thou would'st tremble to receive thyself. 
Attend me then : I went to Antioch, 
Where, as thou know'st, against the face of death, 
I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty, 
From whence an issue I might propagate, 
Are arms to princes, and bring to subjects joys. 2 
Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder ; 
The rest (hark in thine ear,) as black as incest ; 
Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father 
Seem'd not to strike, but smooth : 3 but thou know'st 

this, 
'Tis time to fear, when tyrants s^em to kissl 
Which fear so grew in me, I hi r fled, 
Under the covering of p careful i.ut, 
Who seem'd mv good protector ; and being here, 
Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. 
I knew him tyrannous ; and tyrants' fears 
Decrease not, but grow faster than their years • 
And should he doubt it, 4 (as no doubt he doth,) 
That I should open to the listening air, 
How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, 
To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, — 
To lop that doubt; he'll till this land with arms, 
And make pretence of wrong that I have done him ; 
When all, tor mine, if I may call't ott'ence, 
Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence: 
Which love to all (of which thyself art one, 
Who now reprov'st me for it) 

Hel. Alas, sir ! 

Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my 
cheeks, 
Musings into my mind, a thousand doubts 
How I might stop this tempest, ere it came ; 
And finding little comfort to' relieve them, 
I thought it princely charity to grieve, them. 5 

Hel. Well, my lord, since you have given me 
'eave to speak, 
Freely I'll speak. Antiochus you fear, 
And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, 
Who, either by public war, or private treason, 
Will take away your life. 
Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, 
Till that his rage and anger be forgot, 
Or Destinies do cut his thread of life. 
Your rule direct to any ; if to me, 
Day serves not light in. ire faithful than I'll be. 

Per. I do not doubt thy faith j- 
But should he wrong my liberties in absence 



1 'Forbid it, heaven, that kings should suffer their 
ears to hear their feelings palliated !' 

2 'From whence I might propagate an issue that are 
arms,' &c. Steevens reads : — , 

' Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys.' 
S To smooth is to sooth, coax, or flatter. Thus in 
Aing Richard III. :— 

' Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog.' 
So in Titus Andronicus : — 

' Yield to his humour, smooth, and speak him fair.' 
The verb to smooth is frequently used in this sense by 
our elder writers ; for instance, by Stubbes in his Ana- 
tomie of Abuses, 15S3: — ; If you will learn to derjde, 
scoffe, mock, and tiowt, to flatter and smooth,'' &c. 

4 The quarto of 1609 reads, ' And should he dml,' 
Sec. ; from which the reading of the text has been formed. 
1 Should he be in doubt that I shall keep his secret, (ad 
there is no doubt but he is,) why, to' lop that doubt,' 
i. e. to gei rid of that painful uncertainty, he will strive 
to make me appear the aggressor, by attacking me first 
as she author of some supposed injury to himself.' 

5 That is. to lament their fate. The first quarto 
reads, ' to grieve for them.' 

6 Tins transfer of authority naturally brings the first 
Bcene of Measure for Measure to our mind. 



Hel. We'll mingle bloods together in the earth, 
From whence we had our being and our birth. 

Per. Tyre, I now look from thee, then, and to 
Tharsus 
Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee ; 
And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. 
The care I had and have of subjects' good, 
On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear it. s 
I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath ; 
Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack both : 
But in our orbs 7 we'll live so round and safe, 
That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,' 
Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. 9 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE III. Tyre. An Ante-Chamber in the 
Palace. Enter Thaliard. 

Thai. So, this is Tyre, and this is the court. 
Here must I kill king Pericles ; and if I do not, I 
am sureto be hang'd at home: 'tis dangerous. — 
Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and had good 
discretion, that being bid to ask what he would of 
the king,desired he might know none of his secrets. 10 
Now do I see he had some reason for it : for if a 
king bid a man be a villain, he is bound by the in- 
denture of his oath to be one. — Hush, here come 
the lords of Tyre. 

Enter Helicanus, Escanes, and other Lords. 

Hel. You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, 
Further to question of your king's departure. 
His se'al'd commission, left in trust with me, 
Dolh speak sufficiently, he's gone to travel. 

Tftal. How ! the king gone! [Aside, 

Hel. If further yet you will he satisfied, 
Why, as it were unlicens'd of your loves, 
He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. 
Being at Antioch 

Tim!. What from Antioch ? [Aside 

Hi I. Royal Antiochus, (on what cause I know not,) 
Took some displeasure at him ; at least he judg'd so : 
And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd, 
To show his sorrow, would correct himself; 
So pufs himself 11 unto the shipman's toil, 
With whom each minute threatens life or death. 

Thai. Well, I perceive * [Aside. 

I shall not be hang'd now, although I would ; 
Hut since he's gone, the king it sure must please, 
He scap'd the land, to perish on the seas. 12 — 
But Til present me. Peace to the lords of Tyre ' 

Hel. Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome. 

Thai. From him I come, 
With message unto princely Pericles ; 
But, since my landing, as I have understood 
Your lord has took himself to unknown travels, 
My message must return from whence it came. 

Hel. We have no reason 1, to desire it, since 13 
Commended to our master, not to us: 



7 i. e. in our different spheres. 

' in seipso totius teres atque rotundus.' 

8 Overcome. 

9 This sentiment is not much unlike that of Falstaff: — 
' I shall think the better of myself and thee during my 
life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true'prince.' 
The same idea is more clearly expressed in King Henry 
VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2 :— 

' A loyal subject is 
Therein illustrated.' 

10 Who this wise fellow was, may berknown from the 
following passage in Barnabie Riches Souldier's Wishe 
to Briton's Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine 
Pill, H;n4, p. 27 : — 'I will therefore commende the poet 
PhilipideS, who being demaunded by King Lisimachus, 
what favour he might doe unto him for that he loved 
him, made this answereto the king— That your majesty 
would never impart unto me any of 'jour ssrrets.' 

11 Steevens has thought this phrase wanted illustra- 
tion ; but it is of very common occurrence. ' To-pail 
hinvselfe in daunger of his life ; In periculum caput se 
inferre.' — Barct. 

12 The old ropy reads : — 

' But since he's gone the king's seas must please: 
He scap'd the land, to perish at the sea.' 
nendation is by Dr. Percy. 

13 The ad verb */'/"■''. which is wanting in the old copy, 
was supplied by Steevens for the take of sense and 
metre. 



£CEKE IV. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



371 



Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, — 
As fiieHds to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in tJie Governor's 
Mouse. Enter Clf.on, Dionyza, ami Attendants, 

Cle. My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, 
And by relating tales of others' griefs, 
See if 'twill teach us to forget our own? 

Dio. That were to blow at fire, in hope to quench it ; 
For who digs hills because they do aspire, 
Throws down one mountain, to cast up a higher. 
O, my distressed lord, even such our griefs ; 
Here they're but felt, and seen with mistful eyes, 1 
But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise. 

Cle. O, Dionyza, 
Who wantelh food, and will not say he wants it, 
Or can conceal his hunger, till he famish ? 
Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep our woes 
Into the air ; our eyes do weep, till lungs 
Fetch breath that may proclaim them louder ; that, 
If the gods slumber, 2 while their creatures want, 
They may awake their helps to comfort them. 
I'll then discourse our woes, felt, several vears, 
And wanting breath to speak, help me with tears. 

Dio. I'll do my beat, sir. 

Cle. This Tharsus, o'er which I have government, 
A city, on whom plenty held full hand 
(For riches strew'd herself even in the streets ;) 
Whose towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd the 

clouds, 
And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonder'd at ; 
Whose men- and dames so jetted 1 and adorn'd, 
Like one another's glass to trim them by:* 
Their tables were stor'd full, to glad the sight, 
And not so much to feed on, as delight; 
All poverty was scorn 1 d, and pride so great, 
The name of help grew odious to repeat. 

Dio. O, 'tis too true. 

Cle, But see what heaven can do ! By this our 
change, 
These mouths, whom but of late, earth, sea, and air, 
Were all too little to content and please, 
Although they gave their creatures in abundance, 
As houses are defil'd for want of use, 
They are now starv'd for want of exercise : 
Those palates, who not yet two summers younger, 6 
Must have inventions to delight the taste, 
Would now be glad of bread and beg for it ; 
Those mothers who, to nousle 6 up their babes, 
Thought nought too curious, are ready now, 
To eat those little darlings whom they lov'd. 
So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife 
Draw lots, who first shall die to lengthen life : 



1 The old copy reads : — 

' and,seen with mischiefs eye.' 

The alteration was made by Steevens, who thus ex- 
plains the passage : — ' Withdrawn as we now are from 
the scene we describe, our sorrows are simply felt, and 
appear indistinct, as through a mist.'' Malone reads : — 

' unseen with mischief's eyes.' . ' 

i. e. 'unseen by those who would feel a malignant plea- 
sure in our misfortunes, and add to them by their triumph 
over us.' 

2 The eld copy reads, ' If heaven slumber,' &c. This 
was probably an alteration of the licencer of The press. 
Sense and grammar require that we should read, ' If tlie 
gods,' &c. 

3 To jel is to strut, to walk proudly. 

4 Thus in the Second Part of King Henry IV.: — 
< He was indeed the glass,- 

Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.' 
Again in Cymbeline : — 

' A sample to the youngest, to the more mature 
Jl glass thatfeated them.' 

5 The old copy has : — 

' who not yet too sailers younger.' 

The emendation.was proposed by Mason. Steevens re- 
marks that Shakspeare computes time by the 'same 
numbs r of summers in Romeo and Juliet : — 

' Let two more summers wither in their pride,' &c. 
Malone reads : — 

' who not used to hunger's savour.' 

6 Steevens thought that this word should be nursle ; 
bu' the ■ i "" ptvt ■:. ' ii "'T nlrl ■> : 



Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping ; 
Here many sink, yet those which see them fall, 
Have scarce strength left to give them burial. 
Is not (his true '! 

Dio. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it. 

Cle. O, let those cities, that of Plenty's cup 
And her prosperities so largely taste, 
With their superfluous riots, hear these tears ! 
The misery of Tharsus may be theirs. 

Enter a Lord. 

Lord. Whereas the lord governor ? 

Cle. Here. 
Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st, in haste, 
For comfort is too far for us to expect. 

Lord. We have descried, upon our neighbouring 
shore, 
A portly sail of ships make hitherward. 

Cle. I thought as much. 
One sorrow never comes, but brings an hen, 
That may succeed as his inheritor ; 
And so in ours : some neighbouring nation, 
Taking advantage of our misery, 
Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power, 
To beat us down, the which are down already ; 
And make a conquest of unhappy me,* 
Whereas 9 no glory's got to overcome. 

Lord. That's the least fear : for, by the semblance 
Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace, 
And come to us as favourers, not as foes. 

Cle. Thou speak'st like him 10 untutor'd to repeat, 
Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. 
But bring they what they will, what need we fear ? 
The ground's the low'st, and we are halfway there. 1 ' 
Go tell their general, we attend him here, 
To know for what he comes, and whence he comes, 
And what he craves. 

Lord. I go, my lord. [Exit. 

Cle. Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist : '2 
If wars, we are unable to resist. 

Enter Pericles, with Attendants. 
Per. Lord governor, for so we hear you are, 
Let not our ships, and number of our men, 
Be, like a beacon fir'd, to amaze your eyes. 
We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, 
And see the desolation of your streets ! 
Nor come we to add sorrow to vour tears, 
But to relieve them of their heavy load ; 
And these our ships you happily may think 
Are like the Trojan horse, war-sturF'd within, 



ters to show that the text is right. Thus in New Cus- 
tom ; Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. i. p. 234 : — 

' Borne to all wickedness, and misled in all evil ' 
So Spenser, Faerie Queene, i. vi. 23 : — 

'Whom, till to ryper years he gan aspyre, 
He nousled up in life and maners wilde.' 
' It were a more vauntage and profit by a great dele that 
yonge children's wyttes were otherwyse sette a warke, 
than nossel them in suche errour.' — HormaiVs Vul- 
garis, 1519, fo. 96. 

' Nousleed in virtuous disposition, and framed to an 
honest trade of living.' — Udal's Apopthegmes, fo. 75. 

So in The Death of King Arthur, 1601, cited by Ma- 
lone : — 

' Being nuzzled in effeminate delights.' 

7 Hollow, applied to ships, is a Homeric epithet. See 
Iliad, v. 26. By power is meant forces. 

8 A letter has been probably dropped at press : we may 
read, 'of unhappy mew.' 

9 It has been already observed that whereas was some- 
times used for where ; as well as the converse, where for 
whereas. 

10 The quarto of 1609 reads : — 

' Thou speak'st like hi nines untutor'd to repeat.' 
' Like him untutor'd,' for ' like him who is untutored ' 
' Deluded by the pacific appearance of this navy, you 
talk like one who has never learned the common adage, 
— that the fairest outsides are most to be suspected.'' 

11 The quarto of 1619 reads : — 

' But bring they what they will, and ichat they can, 

What need we fear? 

The ground's the low'st, and we are halfway there' 



372 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act Jin 



With bloodv views, expecting overthrow, 1 
Are stor'd with corn, to make your needy bread, 
And give them life, who are hunger-starv'd, half 
dead. 

All. The. gods of Greece protect you ! 
And we'll pray for you. 

Per. Rise, I pray you, rise ; 

We do not look for reverence, but for love ; 
And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men. 

Cle. The which when any shall not gratify, 
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, 
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, 
The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils'. 
Till whrn (the which, I hope, shall ne'er be seen,) 
Your grace is welcome to our town and us. 

Per. Which welcome we'll accept ; feast here 
a while, 
Until our stars that frowo, lend us a smile. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT II. 

Enter Gower. 
Gow. Here have you seen a mighty king 
His child, I wis, to incest bring : 
A better prince, and benign lord, 
Prove awful both in deed and word. 2 
Be quiet, then, as men should be, 
Till lie hath pass'd necessity. 
I'll show you those in trouble's reign, 
Losing a mite, a mountain gain. 
The >;ood in conversation, 
(To whom I give my benizon,) 
Is still at Tharsus, where each man 3 
Thinks all is writ he spoken can : 4 
And, to remember what he does, \- 

Gild his statue to make it glorious :' J 
But tidings to the contrary 
Are brought your eyes ; what need speak I? 
Dumb Show. 

Enter at one Door Pericles, talking with Cleon ; 
all the Train with them. Enter at another Door, 
a Gentleman with a Letter to Pericles ; Peri- 
cles shows the letter to Cleon ; then gires the 
Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exeunt 
Pericles, Cleon, $-c. severally. 
Gow. Good Helicane, that staid at home, G 

(Not to eat honey, like a drone, 

From others' labours ; for though he strive 

To killen bad, keep good alive ; 

Ami, to fulfil his prince' desire,) 

Sends word of all that haps in Tyre ;' ■ 

How Thaliard came full bent with sin, 

And hid iqtcnt, to murder him ; 

And that in Tharsus was not best 

Longer for him to make his rest t 



1 The old copy reads : — 

' And these our ships you happily may think 

Are like the Trojan horse, was stuffd" within 

With bloody tieinea,' &c. 

The emendation is Steevens's. Mr. Boswell says that 

the olit reading may mean, elliptical!/, ' which was 

stuffed.' 

2 i. e. 'you have seen a better prince, &c. that will 
prove awful,' i. e. reverent. The verb in the first line 
is carried on to the third. 

3 ' The good in conversation 
(To whom I give my benizon,) 
Is still at Tharsus, where' 

Gower means to say, 'The good prince (on whom I 
bestow my best wishes) is still engaged at Tharsus. 
where every man.' &c. Conversation is conduct, be- 
ll, i in ir. See the Second Epistle of St. Peter, iii. 11. 

4 ' Pays as much respect to whatever Pericles says, 
as if it were Holy Writ.' 

5 This circumstance, as well as the foregoing, is found 
in the Confessio Amantis : — 

' That thei for ever in remembrance 
Dliuli' a figure in resemblance 
Of hym, and in a common place 
Thei set it up ; so that his face 
Might every maner man beholde, 
ll was of laton over gylte,'' 8cc. 



He knowing so, put forth to seas, 

Where when men been, there's seldom ease % 

For now the wind begins to blow ; 

Thunder above, and deeps below, 

Make such unquiet, that the ship 

Should house hrm safe, is wreck'd and split ; 

And he, good prince, having all lost, 

By waves from coast to coast is tost : 

All perishen of man, of pelf, 

Ne aught escapen but himself; 

Till fortune, tir'd with doing bad, 

Threw him ashore, to give him glad : 

And here he comes : what shall be next, — 

Pardon old Gower ; this 'longs the text. 8 \Exti. 

SCENE I. Pentapolis. An open Place by the 
Sea Side. Enter Pericles, wet. 
Per. Yet cease your ire, ye angry stars of heaven ! 
Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man 
Is but a substance that must yield to you ; 
And I, as fits my nature, do obey you ; 
Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, 
Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath 
Nothing to think on, but ensuiifg death : 
Let it suffice the greatness of your powers, 
To have bereft a prinGe of all his fortunes ; 
And having thrown him from vour watery grave, 
Here to have death in peace, is all he'll crave. 

Enter Three Fishermen. 

1 Fish. What, ho, Pilche »» 

2 Fish. Ho ! come, and bring away the nets. 
1 Fish. What, Patch-breed^, I say! 

3 Fish. What say you, master ? 

1 Fi*h. Look how thou stirrcst now ! come away, 
or I'll fetch thee with a wannion. 10 

3 Fish. 'Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor 
men that were cast away before us, even now. 

1 Fish. Alas, poor souls, it griev'd my heart to 
hear what pitiful cries they made to us, to help 
them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help our- 
selves. 

3 Fish. Nay, master, said not I as much, when 
I saw the porpus, how he bounced and tumbled? 11 
they say, they are half fish, half flesh : a plague on 
them, they ne'er come, but I look to be wash'd. 
Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. 

1 Fish. Why, as men do a-land ; the great ones 
eat up the little ones : I can compare our rich misers 
to nothing so fitly as to a whale; 'a plays and 
tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, 12 and at 
hist devours tin m all at a mouthful. Such whales 
have I heard on a' the land, who never leave gaping 
till they've swallow'd the whole parish, church, 
steeple, bells and all. 

Per. A pretty moral. 

3 Fish. But, master, if I had been the sexton, I 
would have been that day in the belfry. 

2 Fish. Why, man ? 

3 Fish. Because he should have swallow'd me 
too: and when I had been in his belly, I would 



6 Thus the old copy. SteevensTeails : — 

1 Good Helicane hath staid at home.'" 

7 Old copy : — < Sav'd one of all,' &c. The emenda- 
tion is Steevens's. 

S ' Pardon old Gower from telling what ensues, it 
belongs to the text, not to- his province as chorus.' — 
Steevens justly remarks, that 'the language of our 
fictitious Gower, like that of the Pseudo-Rowley, is so 
often irreconcilable to the practice of any age, that 
criticism on such bungling imitations is almost thrown 
away.' 
9 The old copy reads : — 

' What to pelche.' 
The emendation was suggested by Mr. Tyrwhitt, who 
remarks that Pilche is a leathern coat. 

10 This expression, which is equivalent to with a 
mischief, or irith a vengeance, is of very frequent oc- 
currence in old writers. 

11 Sailors have observed, that the playing of por- 
poises round a ship is a certain prognostic of a violent 
gale of wind. 
12 So in Coriolanus :— 

' — like scaled sculls 

Before the belching whale.' 



Steke I. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



S73 



ihave kept such a jangling of the bells, that he 
should never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, 
church, and |>arish, up again. But if tlio good king 
Simonides were of my mind 

Per. Simonides ? 

3 Fish. We would purge the land of these drones, 
th at rob 'he bee of her honey. 

Per. How from the finny subject of the sea 
These fishers tell the infirmities of men ; 
And from their watery empire recollect 
All that may men approve, or men detect ! 
Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. 

2 Fish. Honest! good fellow, what's that? if it 
be a day fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, 
and no body will look after it. 1 

Per. Nay, see, the sea hath cast upon your 
coast 

2 Fish. What a drunken knave was the sea ; to 
cast thee in our way ! 

Per. A man whom both the "waters and the wind, 
In that vast tennis-court, hath made the ball 
For them to play upon, 2 entreats you pity hira ; 
He asks of you, that never us'd to beg. 

1 Fish. No, friend, cannot you beg ? here's them 
in our country of Greece, gets more with begging, 
than we can do with working. 

2 Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes then? 
Per. I never practis'd it. 

2 Fish. Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure : for 
here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou 
canst fish for't. 

Per. What I have been, I have forgot to know ; 
But what I am, want teaches me to think on : 
A man shrunk up with cold : my veins are chill, 
And have bo more of life, than may suffice 
To give my tongue that heat, to ask your help ; 
Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, 
For that I am a man, pray see me buried. 

1 Fish. Die, quoth-a? Now, gods forbid! I have 
a gown here ; come, put it oh ; keep thee warm. 
Now, afore me, a handsome fellow ! Come, thou 
shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, 
fish for fasting-days, and, moreover, puddings and 
flap-jacks, 3 and thou shalt be welcome. 

Per. I thank you, sir. 

2 Fish. Hark, you, my friend, you said you could 
not beg. 

Per. I did but crave. 

2 Fish. But crave ? Then I'll turn craver, too, 
and so I shall 'scape whipping. 

Per. Why, are all your beggars whipped, then ? 

2 Fish. O, not all, my friend, not all ; for if all 
your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better 
office, than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw 
up the net. [Exeunt two of the Fishermen. 

Per. How well this honest mirth becomes their 
labour ! 

1 Fish. Hark you, sir ! do you know where you 
are ?- • 

Per. Not well. 

1 Fish. Why, I'll tell you : this is called Penta- 
polis, and our king, the good Simonides. 

Per. The good king Simonides, do you call him? 



1 The old copy reads, ' If it be a day fits you search 
out of the calender, and nobody' look after iV The 
preceding speech of Pericles affords no apt introduction 
to the reply of the fisherman. Some remark upon the 
day appears to have been omitted. Steevens supplied 
it thus : — 

' Per. Peace be at your labour, honest fisherman ; 

The day is rough, and thwarts your occupation.'' 

The following speech of Perieles is equally abrupt 
and inconsistent: — 

' Y ' may see the sea hath cast me upon your coast.' 
The emendation is by Steevens. 

Dr. Farmer thinks that there may be an allusion to 
the dies honestissimus cf Cicero. The lucky and un- 
lucky days are put Sown in the old calendars. 

2 Thus in Sidney's Arcadia, book v. : — 'In such a 
shadow, &c. mankind lives, that neither they know 
how to foresee, nor what to fear, and are, like tenis 
bals. tossed by the racket of the higher poiocrs.' 

3 Flap-jacks are pancakes. Thus in Taylor's Jack 
£ LeuL:—' Until at last, by the skill of the cooke, it is 



1 Fish. Ay, ^ir ; and he deserves to be so call'd, 
for his peaceable reign, and good government. 

Per. He is a happy king, since he gains from 
his subjects the name of good, by his government. 
How far is his court distant from this shore '.' 

1 Ftsh. Marr}', sir, half a day's journey ; and 
I'll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-mor- 
row is her birth-day ; and there are princes and 
knights come from all parts of the world, to just and 
tourney for her love. 

Per. Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I 
could wish to make one there. 

1 Fish. O, sir, things must be as they may ; and 
what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for- 
his wife's soul. 4 

Re-enter the Two Fishermen, draviing up a Net. 

2 Fish. Help, master, help ; here's a fish hangs 
in the net, like a poor man's right in the law ; 'twill 
hardly come out. Ha! bots on't,* 'lis come at 
last, and 'tis turned to a rusty armour. 

Per. An armour, friends ! I pray you, let rne 
see it. 
Thanks, fortune, yet, that after all my crosses, 
Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself; 
And, though it was mine own, 6 part of mine he- 
ritage, 
Which my dead father did bequeath 1o me, 
With this strict charg.e, (even as he left his life,) 
Keep it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield 
''Twixt me and death (and pointed to this brace : 7 ) 
For that it sav'd me, keep it : in like necessity, 
The which the gods protect thee from ! it may defend 

thee. 
It kept where I kept, I so dearly lov'd it ; 
Till the rough seas, that spare not any mart, 
Took it in rage, though calm'd, have given it again, 
I thank thee for't ; my shipwreck's now no ill, 
Since I have here my father's gift in his will. 
1 Fish. What mean you, sir '! 
Per. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of 
worth, 
For it was sometime target to a king .; 
I know it by this mark. He lov'd me dearly, 
And for his sake, I wish the having of it ; 
And that you'd guide me to your sovereign's court, 
Where with't I may appear a gentleman ; 
And if that ever my low fortunes better, 
I'll pay your bounties ; till then, rest your debtor. 
1 Fish. Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady ? 
Per. I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms. 

1 Fish. Why, do ye take it, and the gods give 
thee good on't ! 

2 Fish. Ay, but hark you, my friend ; 'twas wc 
that made up this garment through the rough seams 
of the waters : there are certain condolements, cer- 
tain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remem- 
ber from whence you had it. 

Per. Believe't, I will. 
Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel ; 
And spite of all the rupture 8 of the sea, 
This jewel holds his biding 9 on my arm ; 



transformed into the form of a Jlap-jack, which in our 
translation, is caSd a pancake.' 1 

4 ' Things must be' (says the speaker,) as they are 
appointed to be ; and what a man is not sure to compass, 
he has yet a just right to attempt.' The Fisherman may 
then be supposed to begin a new sentence — ' His wile's 
soul ;' but here he is interrupted by his comrades ; and 
it would be vain to conjecture the conclusion of his 
speeeh. 

5 This comic execration was formerly used in the 
room of one less descent. The bots is a disease in 
horses produced by worms. 

6 i. e. and / thank you, though it was mine own. 

7 The brace is the armour for the arm. So in Troilus 
and Cressida: — 

'I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, 
And in my vant brace put this wither'd brawn.' 

8 The rupture of the sea may mean the breaking of 
the sea, as Malone suggests ; but I would rather read 
rapture, which is often used in old writers for violent 
seizure, or the act of carrying away forcibly. As in the 
example excited by Malone. 

9 The old copy reads, 'his building ;' but biding 



374 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE, 



Act K. 



Unto thy value will I mount myself 
Upon a courser, whose delightful steps 
Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. — 
Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided 
Of a pair of bases. 1 

2 Fish. We'll sure provide : thou shalt have my 
best gown to make thee a pair ; and I'll bring thee 
to- the court myself. 

Per. Then honour be but a goal to my will ; 
This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. A public Way, or Plat- 
form, hading to the Lists. A Pavilion by the side 

of it, for Ike reception cf the King, Princess, 

Lords, fyc. Enter Simohides, Thais.*, Lords, 

and Attendants. 

Sim. Are the knights ready to begin the triumph 1 

1 Lord. They are, my liege ; 
And stay your coming to present themselves. 

Sim. Return them, 2 we are ready j and our 
daughter, 
In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, 
Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat 
For men to see, and seeing wonder at. 

[Exit a Lord. 

Thai. It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express 
My commendations great, whose merit's less. 

Sim. 'Tis fit it should be so ; for princes are 
A model, which heaven makes like to itself: 
As jewels lose their glory, if neglected, 
So princes their renown, if not r.-spveted. 
'Tis now your honour, 3 daughter, to explain 
The labour of eacli knight, in his device. 

Thai. Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll per- 
form, 

Enter a Knight r he passes over the Stage, and ftis 
Squire presents ?iis Shield to the Princess. 

Sim. Who is the first that doth prefer himself? 

Thai. A knight of Sparta, my renowned father ; 
And the device he bears upon his shield 
Is a black iEthiop, reaching at the sun ; 
The word, 11 Lux tua vita 7mhi. 

Sim. He loves you well, that holds his life of you. 
[The sscoiul Knieht^ttsaes. 
Who is the second, that presents himself? 

Thai. A priuce of Macedon, my royal father ; 
And the device lie bears upon his shield 
Is an arm'd knight, that's conquer'd by a lady r 
The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu per dulcura que 
per fuerca.> [The third Knight passes. 

Sim. And what's the third ? 

Thai. The third, of Antioeh ; 

And his device, a wreath of chivalry : 
The word, J)le pompm provexit apex.* 

[The fourtii Knight passe*. 

Sim. What is the fourth ? 

Thai. A burning torch, that's turned upside down ; 
The word, Quod me alit, me exlin>:uit. 



was probably the poet's word. A similar expression 
occurs in Othello: — 

' look, I have a weapon, 

A better never did 'sustain itself 
Upon a soldier's thigh.' 
Any ornament of enchased gold was anciently styled a 
jewel. 

I Bases we-re a sort of petticoat that hung dowa to 
the knees, and were suggested by the Roman military 
dress, in which they seem to have been separate paral- 
lel slips of cloth or leather. In Rider's Latin Diction- 
ary, bases are rendered pallhluvi curium. The High- 
landers wear a kind of bases at this day. In Massin- 
ger's Picture, Sophia, speaking of Hilario's disguise, 
says to Corisca : — 

' 1 You, minion, 

Had a hand in it too, as it appears 
Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior.' 
9 i. e. return them notice that we are ready, &c. 
3 The sense would be clearer were we to substitute 
both in this and in the following instance office for ho- 
iiaur. Honour may however mean her situation as 
queen of the feast, as she is afterwards called. The 
idea of this scene may have been derived from the 
third book of the Iliad, where Helen describes the Gre- 
C/.a-n leaders to her father-in-law Priam. ' 



Sim. Which shows that beauty hath his powe? 
and will, 
Which can as well inflame, as it can kill. 

[The fifth Knight passes, 
Thai. The fifth, an hand environed with clouds j 
Holding out gold, that's by the touchstone tried : 
The motto thus, Sic spectqnda fides. 

[The sixth Knight pusses* 
Sim. And what's the sixth and last, which th* 
knight himself 
With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd ? 

Thai. He seems to be a stranger ; but his present is 
A wither'd branch, that's only green at top j 
The motto, In hoc spe vivo." 1 

Sim. A pretty moral ; 
From the dejected state wherein he is, 
He hojies by you his fortunes yet may flourish. 

1 Lord. He had need mean better than his out- 

ward show 
Can any way speak in his just commend : 
For, by his rusty outside, he appears 
To have practis'd more the whipstock, 8 than the 

lance. 

2 Lord. He well may be a stranger, for he comes- 
To an honor'd triumph, strangely furnished. 

3 Lord. And on set purpose let his armour rusi 
Until this dav, to scour it in the dust. 9 

Sims Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan 
Tin- outward habit by the inward man. 10 
But stav, the knights are corning ; we'll withdraw 
lute the gallery. [Exeunt. 

[Great shouts, and ail cry, The mean knight, 

SCENE III. The same. A Hull of State. A 
Banquet prepared. Enter Si.mdmdes, Tha'.sa, 
Lords, Knights, and Attendants. 

Sim. Knights, 
To say you are u -k-ome, were superfluous. 
To place qpoii the volun>e of your deeds, 
As in a title-page, your worth in arms, 
Were more than you expect, or more thau's fit, 
Since every worth in show conamends itself. 
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast : 
You are princes, and my guests. 

Thai. But you, ray knight and gqest;. 

To whom this wreath of victory I give, 
And crown you king of this day's happiness. 

Per. 'Tis more bj fortune, lady, than my merit, 

Sim. Call it by what you will, the dav is yours; 
And here, I hope, is none that envies it. 
In framing artists, art hath thus decreed, 
To make some good, Kit others to exceed ; 
And you're her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o' 

the feast 
(For r daughter, so you are,) here take your place r 
Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. 

Knights. We are honour'd much by good Simo- 
nides. 



4 i. e. the mot or motto. See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5 :— 
' ?>" w to my word.' 

5 i. e. more by sweetness than by fnree. It should 
be ' Mas per daleura,' &c. . Phi is Italian not Spanish. 

6 The work which appears to have furnished the 
author of the play with this and the two subsequent de» 
vices of the knights, has the following title : — ' The he~ 
roical Devices of M. Claudius Parafiin, canon of Beau- 
gen ; whereunto are added the Lord Gabriel Symeo'rs. 
and others. Translated out of Latin into En"' 

P. S.' 1591, 24rno. Mr. Douce has given copies of 
some of them in his Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 126. 

7 This device and motto may have been taken from 
Daniel's translation of Paulus Jovius, 1585 ; in which is 
will be found at sig. H 7. h. 

8 i.e. the carter's whip. It was sometimes used as a 
term of contempt ; as in Albumazar. 1615 : — 

< out Carter, 

Hence, dirty whipstock.'' 

9 The idea of this ill-appointed knight appears to 
have been taken from the first book of Sidney's Arca- 
dia : — ' His armour of as old a fashion, beside th« 
rustic poornesse,&c. so that all that looked on measured 
his length on the earth already,' &c. 

10 i. e. ' that makes as scan the inward man by ths 
outward habit ' Such inversions are not uncommon \& 
old writers. 



ScttfE IV. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



S7.5 



Sim. Your presence glads our days ; honour we 
love, 
For who hates honour, hates the gods above. 

3Iarsh. Sir. yond's your place. 

Per. Some other is more fit. 

I Knight. Contend not, sir-, for we. are gentlemen, 
That neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, 
Envy the great, nor do the low despise. 

Per. You are right courteous knights. 

Sim. Sit, sit, sir ; sit. 

Per. By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, 
These cates resist me,. 1 be not thought upon. 

Thai. By Juno, that is queen 
Of marriage, all tke viands that eat 
Do seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat ; 
Sure he's a gallant gentleman. 

Sim. He's but 

A country gentleman ; 

He has done no more than other knights have done ; 
Broken a staff, or so; so let it pass. 

Thai. To me he seems like diamond to glass. 

Per. Yon king's to me, like to my father's picture, 
Which tells me, in that glory once he was ; 
Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne, 
And he the sun, for them to reverence. 
None that beheld him, but like lesser lights, 
Did vail 2 their crowns to his supremacy ; 
Where 3 now his son's a glowworm in the night, 
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light j 
Whereby I see that time's the king of men, 
For he's their, parent, and he is their grave,* 
And gives them what he will, not what they crave. 

Sim. What, are you merry, knights ? 

1 Knight. Who can be other, in this royal pre- 
sence ? 

Sim. Here, with a cup that's stor'd unto the 
brim, 
(As you do lore, fill to your mistress' lips,) 
We drink this health to you. 

Knights. We thank your grace. 

Sim. Yet pause awhile ; 
Yon ksight, methinks, doth sit too melancholy, 
As if the entertainment in our court 
Had not a. show might countervail his worth. 
Note it not you, Thaisa ? 

Thai. What is it 

To me, my father ? 

Sim. 0, attend, my daughter ; 

Princes, in this, should live like gods above, 
Who freely give to every one that comes 
To honour them : and princes, not doing so, 
Are like to gnats, which make a sound, but kill'd 
Are wonder' d at. 5 

Therefore to make his entrance 6 more sweet, 
Here say, we drink this standing-bowl of wine to 
him. 

Thai. Alas, my father, it befits not me 
Unto a stranger knight to be so bold ; 
He may my proffer take for an offence, 
Since men take women's gifts for impudence. 

Sim. How ! 
Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. 

Thai. Now, by the gods, he could not please me 
better. [Aside. 

Sim. And further tell him, we desire to know, 
Of whence he is, his name, and parentage. 



1 i. e. '..these delicacies go against nr stomach.' — 
The old copy gives this speech to Simonides, and reads, 
L he not thought upon.' Gower describes Apollinus, the 
Pericles of this play, under the same circumstances : — 

' That he sat ever stille and thought. 
As he which of no meat rougkV 

2 Lower. 

3 Where is here again used for whereas. The pecu- 
liar property of the glowworm, upon which the poet has 
here employed a line, is happily described in Hamlet in 
a single word : — 

'The glowworm shows the matin to be near, 
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.' 

4 So in Romeo and Juliet : — ■ 

' The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ; 
What is her burying grave, that is her womb.' 
Milton has the same thought : — 

Th<i womb of nature, and perhaps her ^rave.' 



Thai. The king, my father, sir, has drunk to you. 

Per. I thank him. 

Thai. Wishing it so much blood unto your life. 

Per. I thank both him and you, and pledge him 
freely. 

Thai. And further Tie desires to know of you, 
Of whence you are, your name and parentage. 

Per. A gentleman of Tyre — (my name, Pericles ; 
My education being in arts and arms ;) — 
Who looking for adventures in the world, 
Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, 
And, after shipwreck, driven upon this shore. 

Thai. He thanks your grace ; names himself Peri- 
- cles, 
A gentleman of Tyre, who only by- 
Misfortune of the seas ha-s been bereft 
Of ships and men, and cast upon this shore. 

Sim. Now by the gods, I pity his misfortune, 
And will awake hiin from his melancholy. 
Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, 
And waste the time, which looks for other revels. 
Even in your armours, as you are address'd, 7 
Will very well become a soldier's dance. 
I will not have excuse, with saying, this 
Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads ; 
Since they love men in arms, as well as beds. 

[The Knights dance. 
So, this, was well ask'd, 'twas so well performed. 
Come, sir ; 

Here is a lady that wants breathing too: 
And I have often heard, you knights of Tyre 
Are excellent in making ladies trip ; 
And that their measures are as excellent. 

Per. In those that practise them, they are, my 
lord. 

Sim. O, that's as much, as you would be denied 
[The Knights and Ladies dance. 
Of your fair courtesy. — Unclasp, unclasp; 
Thanks, gentlemen, to all ; all have done well ; 
But you the best. [To Pericles.] Pages and lights, 

conduct 
These knights unto their several lodgings : Yours, 

sir, 
We have given order to be next our own. 

Per. I am at your grace's pleasure. 

Sim. Princes, it is too late to talk of love, 
For that's the mark I know yon level at : 
Therefore each one betake him to his rest; 
To-morrow, aH for speeding do their best. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Tyre. A Room in the Governor's 
House. Enter Hb Lie an us and Escanes. 

Hel. No, no, my Escanes ; know this o\ me, — 
Anliochus from incest liv'd Rot free ; 
For which, the most high gods not minding longer, 
To withhold the vengeance that they had in store, 
Due to this heinous capital offence, 
Even in the height and pride of all his glory, 
When he was seated, and his daughter with him, 
In a chariot of inestimable value, 
A fire from heaven came, and shrivell'd up 
Their bodies, even to loathing ; for they so stunk, 
That all those eyes ador'd them 8 ere their fall, 
Scorn now their hand should give them burial. 

Esca. 'Twas very strange. 



5 ' "When kings, like insects, lie dead before us, our 
admiration is excited by contemplating how in both in- 
stances the powers of creating bustle were superior to 
those which either object should seem to have promised. 
The woithiess monarch, and the idle gnat, have only 
lived to make an empty biuster ; and when both alike- 
are dead, we wonder how it happened that they made so 
-much, or that we permitted them to make it : a natural 
reflection on the death of an unserviceable prince, who, 
having dispensed no blessings, can hope for no better 
character.' — Steevene. 

6 By his entrance appears to be meant his present 
trance, the reverie in which he is sitting. 

7 ' As you are accoutred, prepared for combat.' So, 
in King Henry V.:— 

' To-morrow for the march are we addressed.' 
S i. e. which ador'd them. 



76 



Hel. And yet but just ; for though 
This king were great, his greatness was no guard 
To bar heaven's shaft ; but sin had his reward. 

Esca. 'Tis very true. 

Enter Three Lords. 

1 Lord. See, not a man in private conference, 
Or council, has respect with him but he. 1 

2 Lord. It shall no longer grieve without reproof. 

3 Lord. And curst be he that will not second it. 
2 Lord. Follow me, then : Lord Helicane, a word. 
Hel. With me ? and welcome : Happy day, my 

lords. 

1 Lord. Know that our griefs are risen to the top, 
And now at length they overflow their banks. 

Hel. Your griefs, for what ? wrong not the prince 

you love. 
1 Lord. Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane ; 
But if the prince do live, let us salute him, 
Or know what ground's made happy by his breath. 
If in the world he live, we'll seek him out ; 
If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there : 
And be resolv'd, 2 he lives to govern us, 
Or dead, gives cause to mourn his funeral, 
And leaves us to our free election. 

2 Lord. Whose death's, indeed, the strongest in 

our censure : 3 
And knowing this kingdom, if without ahead, 
(Like goodly buildings left without a roof,) 
Will soon to ruin fall, your noble self, 
That best know'st how to rule, and how to reign, 
We thus submit unto,— our sovereign. 

All. Live, noble Helicane ! 

Hel. Try honour's cause, forbear your suffrages : 
If that you love prince Pericles, forbear. 
Take I your wish, I lea]) into the seat,* 
Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease. 
A twelvemonth longer, let me then entreat you 
To forbear choice i' the absence of your king ; s 
If in which time expir'J, he not return, 
I shall with aged patience bear your yoke. 
But if I cannot win you to this love, v • 
Go search like noblemen, like noble subjects, 
And in your search spend your adventurous worth ; 
Whom if you find, and win unto return, 
You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. 

1 Lord. To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield j 
And, since Lord Helicane enjoineth us, 
We with our travels will endeavour it. 

Hel. Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp 
hands ; 
When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE V. Pentapolis. A Room m the Palace. 

Enter Simonides, reading a Letter; the Knights 

meet him. 

1 Knight. Good morrow to the good Simonides. 
Sim. Knights, from my daughter this I let you 

know, 
That for this twelvemonth, she'll not undertake 
A married life. 

Her reason to herself is only known, 
Which from herself by no means can I get. 

2 Knight. May we Rot get access to her, my 

lord ? 
Sim. 'Faith, by no means ; she hath so strictly 

tied her 
To her chamber, that it is impossible. 
One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery ; 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act 12 



1 ' To what this charge of partiality was designed to 

■conduct we.do not learn ; for it appears to have no in- 
fluence over the rest of the dialogue.'— Steevens. 
?. Satisfied. 

3 i.e. 'the most probable in our opinion.' Censure 
is frequently used forjydgment, opinion, by Shakspeare. 

4 The old copy reads : — 

' Take 1 your wish, I leap into the seas/ &c. 
Steevens contends for the old reading ; that it is merely 
figurative, and moans, •! smbark too hastily on an ex- 
.pedition in irlvrli mxr-is disoroportioned to labour.* 

5 Some word being omitted in this, line in the old copy, 
^Steevens thus supplied if — 

' To forbear cAoi'ce i' .ne absence of your king.' 



This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd, € 
And on her virgin honour will not break it. 

3 Knight. Though loath to bid farewell, we take 
our leaves. [Esreunt. 

Sim. So, 
They're well despatched ; now to my daughter'^ 

letter : 
She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger knight, 
Or never more to view nor day nor light. 
Mistress, 'tis well, your choice agrees with mine ; 
I like that well : — nay, how absolute she's in't, 
Not minding whether I dislike or no ! 
Well, I commend her choice ; 
And will no longer have it be delav'd. 
Soft, here he comes : — I must dissemble it. 
Enter Pericles. 

Per. All fortune to the good Simonides ! 

Sim. To you as much, sir ! I am beholden toyoo, 
For your sweet music this last night : my ears, 
I do protest, were never better fed 
With such delightful pleasing harmony. 

Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commend ; 
Not my desert. 

Sim. Sir, you are music's master. 

Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. 

Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do you think, 
sir, of 
My daughter ? 

Per. As of a most virtuous princess. 

Sim. And she is fair, too, is she not ? 

Per. As a fair day in summer : wondrous fair. 

Si?n. My daughter, sir, thinks verv well of you ; 
Ay, so well, sir, that you must be her master, 
And she'll your scholar be ; therefore look to it. 

Per. Unworthy I to be her schoolmaster. 

Sim. She thinks not so j peruse this writing else. 

Per. What's here ! 
A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre! 
'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life. [Atide. 

O, seek not to entrap, my gracious lord, 
A stranger, and distressed gentleman, 
That never aim'd so high, to love your daughter, 
But bent all offices to honour her. 

Sim. Thou hast 4>ewitch'd my daughter, and 
thou art 
A villain. 

Per. By the gods, I hare not, sir. 
Never did thought of mine levy offence ; 
Nor never did my actions yet commence 
A deed might gain her love, or your displeasure. 

Sim. Traitor, thou liest. 

Per. Traitor ? 

Sim. Ay, traitor, sir. 

Per. Even in his throat (unless it be the king,) 
That calls me traitor, I return the lie. 

Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. 

[Asidt. 

Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts. 
That never relish'd' of a base descent. 
I came unto your court, for honour's cause, 
And not to be a rebel to her state ; 
And he that otherwise accounts of me. 
This sword shall prove his honour's enemy. 

Sim. No !— 
Here comes my daughter, she can witness it 

Enter Thaisa. 

Per. Then as you are as virtuous as fair, 
Resolve your angry father, if my tongue 
Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe 
To any syllable that made love to you ? 

Thai. Whv, sir, say if you had, 
Who takes offence at that would make me glad. 



6 ' It were to be wished, (says Steevens,) that Simo- 
nides, who is represented as a blameless character, nad 
hit on some mure ingenious expedient for ehe dismission 
of these wooers. Here he tells them, as a solemn truth, 
what he knows to be a fiction of his own.' 

7 So in Hamlet : — 

' That has no relish of salvation in it.' 
And in Macbeth : — 

' So well thy words become thee as thy wounds, 
They smack of honour both.' 



Scene V. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



m 



Sim. Yea, mistress, are. you so peremptory ? — 
I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] I'll 

tame you ; 
I'll bring you in subjection. — 
Will you, not having my consent, bestow 
Your love and your affections on a stranger ? 
(Who, for aught I know to the contrary, 
Or think, may be as great in blood as I.) [Aside. 
Hear, therefore, mistress ; frame your will to mine, — 
And you, sir, hear you. — Either be rul'd by me, 
Or I will make you — man and wife. — 
Nay, come ; your hands and lips must seal it too. — 
And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy ; — 
And for a further grief, — God give you joy ! 
What, are you both pleas'd ? 

Thai. Yes, if you love me, sir. 

Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it. 1 

Shn. What, are you both agreed ? 

Both. Yes, please your majesty. 

Sim. It pleaseth me so well, I'll see you wed ; 
Then, with what haste you can, get you to bed. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT III. 
Enter Gower. 
Gow. Now sleep yslaked hath the rout j 

No din but snores, the house about, 

Made louder by the o'er-fed breast 2 

Of this most pompous marriage-feast. 

The cat, with evne of burning coal, 

Now couches 'fore the mouse's hole ; 

And crickets, sing at th' oven's mouth, 

As the blither for their drouth. 

Hymen hath brought the bride to bed, 

Where, by the loss of maidenhead, 

A babe is moulded ; — Be attent, 

And time that is so briefly spent, 

Wiih your fine fancies quaintly eche ; 3 

What's dumb in show, I'll plain with speech. 
Dumb Show. 

Enter Pericles and Simonides at one door, with 
Attendants : a Messenger meets them, k?ieels, and 
gives Pericles a Letter, Pericles shows it to 
Simonides ; the Lords kneel to the former. 11 Then 
enter Thasia with child, and Lychorida. Si- 
monides shows his Daughter the Letter ; she re- 
joices : she and Pericles take leave of her Father, 
and depart. Then Simonides, fyc. retire. 
Gow. By many a deam and painful perch 5 



1 The quarto oi'l(>19 reads : — 

'Even as my life or blood that fosters it.' 
We have the same thought most exquisitely expressed 
in Julius Cajsar : — 

' As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops 

That visit my sad heart.' 

2 So Virgil, speaking of Rhamnes, who was killed in 
the midnight expedition of Nisus and Euryalus : 

' Rhamneten aggreditur, qui forte tapetibus aids 
Extructus, toto proflabat pectore soninum." 1 

3 Eke out. 

4 The Lords kneel to Pericles, because they are now, 
for the first time, informed by this letter, that he is king 
of Tyre. 'No mart,' says Gower, in his Qonfessio 
Amantis : — 

' knew the soth cas, 

But he hym selfe ; what man he was.' 
By the death of Antiochus and his daughter, Pericles has 
also succeeded to the throne of Antioch, in consequence 
of having rightly interpreted the" riddle proposed to him. 
a Deam sisnifies lonely, solitary. A perch is a 
measure of five yards and a half . 'The careful search 
of Paricles is made by many a dearn and painful perch, 
by the four opposing coignes which join the world to- 
gether ; with all due diligence.' 

6 i. e. help, befriend or assist the search. So in 
Measure for Measure : — 

' can you so stead me 

To bring me to the sight of Isabella?' 

7 i. e. to suppress : opprimere. 

8 An exclamation equivalent to well-a-day. 

5 'The further consequences of this storm I shall not 
describe; what ensues maybe conveniently exhibited 
in action ; but action could not well have displayed all 
tb.3 <3?2nts that I have now related.' 

2X 



Of Pericles the careful search 

By the four opposing coignes, 

Which the world together joins, 

Is made with all due diligence, 

That horse, and sail, and high expense, 

Can stead the quest, At last from Tyre, 

(Fame answering the most strong inquire,) 

To the court of King Simonides 

Are letters brought; the tenor these : 

Antiochus and his daughter's dead : 

The men of Tyrus, on the head 

Of Helicanus would set on 

The crown of Tyre, but he will none : 

The mutiny there he hastes t' oppress , 

Says to them, if King Pericles 

Come not home, in twice six moons, 

He, obedient to their dooms, 

Will take the crown. The sum of this, 

Brought hither to Pentapolis, 

Y-ravished the regions round, 

And evpry one with claps 'gan sound. 

Our heir apparent is a king : 

IVho dream'd, who thought of such a thing ? 

Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre : 

His queen, with child, makes her desire, 

(Which, who shall cross '!) along to go ; 

(Omit we all their dole and wo ;) 

Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, 

And so to sea. Their vessel shakes 

On Neptune's billow ; half the flood 

Hath their keel cut ; but fortune's mood 

Varies again ; the grizzled north 

Disgorges such a tempest forth, 

That, as a duck for life that dives, 

So up and down the poor ship drives. 

The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near ! a 

Doth fall in travail with her fear : 

And what ensues in this fell storm 

Shall, for itself, itself perform. 

I nill relate ; action may 

Conveniently the rest convey : 

Which might not what by me is told.* 

In vour imagination hold 

This stage, the ship, 10 upon whose deck. 

The sea-tost Pericles appears to spea*t. [Ex*i 

SCENE I. Enter Pericles, on a Slap at Sea. 

Per. Thou God of this great vast, 11 rebuke theso 
surges. 



10 It is clear from these lines that when the play was 
originally performed, no attempt was made to exhibit 
either a sea or a ship. The ensuing scene and some 
others must have suffered considerably in the repre- 
sentation, from the poverty of the stage apparatus in 
the time of the author. 

11 It should be remembered that Pericles is supposed to 
speak from the deck. Lychorida, on whom he Calls is 
supposed to be in the cabin beneath. ' This great vast' 
is ' this wide expanses This speech is exhibited in so 
strange a form in the old editions, that it is here given 
to enable the reader to judge in what a corrupt state it 
has come down to us, and be induced to treat the at- 
tempts to restore it to integrity with indulgence : — 

' The God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, 
Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou that hast 
Upon the windes commaund, bind them in brasse ; 
Having call'd them from the deepe, o still 
Thy deafning dreadful thunders, gently quench 
Thy nimble sulphirous flashes, o How Lychorida ! 
How does my queene : thou storm venemously, 
Wilt thou speat all thyself? the sea-mans whistle 
Is as a whisper in the eares of death, 
Unheard Lychorida ? Lucina oh ! 
Divinest patrioness and my wife gentle 
To those that cry by night, convey thy deitie 
Aboard our daunting boat, make swift the pangues 
Of my queenes travayles ? now Lychorida ?> 
Pericles, having called to Lychorida, without thepovtei 
to make her hear on account of the tempest, at last with 
frantic peevishness addresses himself to it : — 

' Thou storm thou .' venemously 

Wilt thou spit all thyself?' — 
Having indulged himself in this question, he grows 
cooler, and observes that the very boatswain's whistle 
has no more effect on the sailors than the voices of those 
who speak to the dead. He then repeats his inquiries 



W8 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act m. 



Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou, that 

hast 
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, 
Having call'd them from the deep ! O still thy 

deaf'ning, 
Thy dreadful thunders ; gently quench thy nimble 
Sulphureous Hashes ! — O how, Lychorida, 
How does my queen ! — Thou storm, thou ! venom- 
ously 1 
Wilt thou spit all thyself? — The seaman's whistle 
Is as a whisper in the ears of dea'h, 
Unheard. — Lychorida ! — Lucina, O 
Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle 
To those that cry by night,- convey thy deity 
Aboard our dancing boat ; make swift the pangs 
Of my queen's travails ! — Now, Lychorida — -— 

Enter Lychorida, with an Infant. 

Lye. Here is a thing 
Too young for such a place, who if it had 
Conceit 2 would die as I am like to do. 
Take in your arms this piece of your dead queen. 

Per. How ! how, Lychorida ! 

Lye. Patience, good sir ; do not assist the storm. 
Here's all that is left living of your queen,— 
A little daughter ; for the sake of it, 
Be manly, and take comfort. 

Per. O, you gods ! 

Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, 
And snatch them straight away 7 We, here below, 
Recall not what we give, and therein may 
Vie 3 honour with you. 

Lye Patience, good sir, 

Even for this charge. 

Per. Now, mild may be thy life ! 

For a more blust'rotis birth had never babe : 
Quiet and gentle lliv conditions! 4 
For thou art the ruddiest wclcom'd to this world, 
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows ! 
Thou hast as chiding 5 a nativity, 
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, 
To herald thee from the womb : even at the first, 
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, 6 
With all thou canst find here. — Now the good gods 
Throw their best eyes upon it ! 

Enter Two Sailors. 

1 Sail. What coura«e, sir? God save you. 

Per. Courage enough : I do not far the. Haw ;' 
It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love 
Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, 
I would, it would be quiet. 

1 Sail. Slack the bolins 8 there ; thou wilt not, 
wilt thou? Blow and split thyself. 

2 Sail. But sea-room, an "the brine and cloudy 
billow kiss the moon, I care not. 

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard ; the sea 
works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till 
the ship be cleared of the dead. 

Per. That's your superstition. 



of Lychorida, bm receiving no answer, Concludes with 
a prayer for his queen. 

1 Maliciously. 

2 i. e. ' who if it had thought. 1 

3 That is, ' contend with 'you in honour.' The old 
copv reads: — ' Use honour with you.' _ 

4 Conditions are qualities, dispositions of mind. 

5 i. e as noisy a one. 

6 i. e. thou hast already lost more (by the death of thy 
mother) than thy safe arrival at the port of life can 
counterbalance, with all to boot that we can give thee. 
Portage is here used for conveyance into life. 

7 A flaw is a stormy gust of wind. See Coriolanus, 
Act v. Sc. 3. • 

8 Bolins or bowlines are ropes by which the sails of a 
ship are governed when the wind is unfavourable : they 
are slackened when it-is high. Thus in The Two No- 
ble Kinsmen : — 

' the wind is fair ; 

Top the bowling.' 

9 The old copy reads, ' strong in easterner The 
emendation is Mr. Boswell's. 

10 Old copy, ' in oare." 1 

11 The old copies erroneously read : — 

' The atr-remainirig lamps.' 
Tie emendation is Malune's. The propriety of it will 



1 Sail. Pardon us, sir ; with us at sea it still 
hath been observed ; and we are strong in custom. 9 
Therefore briefly yield her ; for she must overboard 
straight. 

Per. Be it as you think meet. — Most wretched 
queen ! 

Lye. Here she lies, sir. 

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear, 
No light, no fire ; the unfriendly elements 
Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time 
To give thee hallovv'd to thy grave, but straight 
Must cast thee, scarcely coflin'd, in the ooze ;'° 
Where, for a monument upon thy bones, 
And aye-remaining" lamps, the belching whale, 
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, 
Lving with simple shells. Lychorida, 
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper, 
My casket and my jewels ; and bid Nicander 
Bring me the satin coffer : 12 lay the babe 
Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say 
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. 

[Exit Lychorida, 

2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, 
caulk'd and bitumed ready. 

Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is 

this? 
2 Sail. We are near Tharsus. 
Per. t Thither, gentle mariner, 
Alter thy course for Tyre. 13 When canst thou 
reach it? 
2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. 
Per. O, make for Tharsus. 
There will I visit Cleon, for the babe 
Cannot hold out to Tvrus ; there I'll leave it 
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner ; 
I'll bring the body presently. [Exeuni 

SCENE II. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon'.o 
House. Enter Cerimon, a Servant, and some 
Persons who have been shipwrecked. 
Cer. Philemon, ho ! 

Enter Philemon. 
Phil. Doth my lord call ? 
Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men ; 
It has been a turbulent and stormy night. 

Sen. I have been in many ; but such a night as 
this, 
Till now I ne'er endur'd. 

Cer. Your master wi)l be dead ere you return ; 
There's nothing can be minister'd to nature, 
That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, 
And tell him how it works. 14 [To Philemon 

[Exeunt Philemon, Servant," and those who 
had been shipierecked. 
Enter Two Gentlemen. 

1 Gent. Good morrow, sir. 

2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. 

Cer. Gentlemen, 

Why do you stir so early ? 



be evident if we recur to the author's leading thought, 
which is founded on the customs observed in the pomp 
of ancient sepulture. Within old monuments and re- 
ceptacles for the dead perpetual (i. e. aye-remaining) 
lamps were supposed to be lighted up. Thus Pope, in 
his Eloisa : — 

' Ah hopeless lasting flames, like those that burn 
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn !' 
'Instead of a monument erected over thy bones, and per- 
petual lamps to burn near them, the spouting whale shall 
oppress thee with his weight, and the mass of waters 
shall roll with low heavy murmur over thy head.' 

\i The old copies have coffin. Pericles does not mean 
to bury his qoeen in this coffer (which was probably o*e 
lined with satin,) but to take from thence the clo'h of 
state, in which she was afterwards shrouded. 

13 ' Change thy course, which is now for Tyre, and go 
to Tharsus. , 

14 The precedent words show that the physic cannnt 
be designed for the master of the servant here introduced. 
Perhaps the circumstance was introduced for no other 
reason than to mark more strongly the extensive bene- 
volence of Cerimon. It could not be meant for the poor 
men who have just left the stage, to whom he has ordered 
kitchen physic. 



SeENE II. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE 



373 



1 Gent. Sir, 

Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, 
Shook, as the earth did quake ; 
The very principals 1 did seem to rend, 
And all to topple ; 2 pure surprise and fear 
Made me to quit the house. 

2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early ; 
'Tis not our husbandry. 3 

Cer. O, you say well. 

1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship, 

having 
Rich tire 4 about you, should at these early hours 
Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 
It is most strange, 

Nature should be so conversant with pain, 
Being thereto not compell'd. 

Cer. I held it ever, 

Virtue and cunning 5 were endowments greater 
Than nobleness and riches ; careless heirs 
May the two latter darken and expend ; 
But immortality attends the former, 
Making a man a god. : Tis known, I ever 
Have studied physic, through which secret art, 
By turning o'er authorities, I have 
(Together with my practice,) made familiar 
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions 
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones ; 
And I can speak of the disturbances 
That nature works, and of her cures ; which give me 
A more content in course of true delight 
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, 
Or tie my (reasure up in silken bags, 
To piease the fool and death. 6 

2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd 

forth 
Your charity, and hundreds call themselves 
Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd : 
And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even 
Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon 

Such strong renown as time shall never 

Enter Two Servants with a Chest. 

Serv. So ; lift there. 

Cer. What is that ? 

Serv. Sir, even now 

Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 
'Tis of some wreck. 

Cer. "Set't down, let's look on it. 

2 Gent. 'Tis like a coffin, sir. 

Cer. Whate'er it be, 

'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight ; 
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold, 
It is a good constraint of fortune, that 
It belches upon us. 

2 Gent. 'Tis so, my lord. 

Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd ! — 
Did the sea cast it up? 



Sens. I never saw so huge a billow, sir, 
As toss'd it upon shore. 

Cer. Come, wrench it open , 

Soft, soft ! — it smells most sweetly in my sense. 

2 Gent. A delicate odour. 

Cer. As ever hit my nostril ; so, — up with it. 
O, you most potent god ! what's here ? a corse ! 

1 Gent. Most strange ! 

Cer. Shrouded in ck-th of state ; balm'd and en« 
treasur'd 
With bags of spices full ! A passport too ! 
Apollo, perfect me i' the characters ! 

[Unfolds a Scroll, 

Here I give to understand [Reads. 

(//e'er this coffin drive a-land,) 7 

1, king Pericles, have lost 

This queen, ivorth all our mundane cost. 

Who finds her, give her burying, 

She was the daughter of a king : 

Besides this treasure for a fee. 

The gods requite his charity ! 
If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart 
That even cracks for wo !— This chane'd to-night. 

2 Gent. Most likely, sir. 

Cer. Nay, certainly to-night ; 

For look how fresh she looks! — They were too 

rough, 
That threw her in the sea. Make fire within ; 
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. 
Death may usurp on nature many hours, 
And yet the fire of life kindle again 
The overpressed Spirits. I have heard 
Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead, 
By good appliance was recover'd. 

Enter a Servant, with Boxes, Napkins, and Fire, 
Well said, well said ; the fire and the cloths. — 
The rough and woful music that we have, 
Cause it to sound, 'beseech you. 
The vial once more ; — how thou stirr'st, thou block 2 
The music there. — I pray you, give her air: — 
Gentlemen, 

This queen will live : nature awakes ; a warmth 
Breathes out of her ; she hath not been entrane'd 
Above five hours. See, how she 'gins to blow 
Into life's flower again ! 

1 Gent. The heavens, sir, 

Through you, increase our wonder, and set up 
Your fame for ever. 

Cer. She is alive ; behold, 

Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels 
Which Pericles hath lost, 
Begin to part their fringes of bright gold ; 8 
The diamonds of a most praised water 
Appear to make the world twice rich. O, live, 



1 The principals are the strongest rafters in the roof 
of a building. 

2 Ml-to is a common augmentative in old language. 
The word topple, which means tumble, is used again in 
Macbeth:— 

' Though castles topple on their warders' heads.' 

3 Husbandry here signifies economical prudence. So 
in Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3 :— 

< borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.'' 

And in Henrv V.: — 

'For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers, 
Which is both heathful and good husbandry.' 

4 The gentlemen rose early because they were in 
lodgings, wliich stood exposed near the sea. They 
wonder to find Lord Cerimon stirring, because he had 
rich, lire about him, meaning perhaps a bed more richly 
and comfortably furnished, where he could have slept 
warm and secure in defiance of the tempest. Steevens 
thinks that the reasoning of these gentlemen should 
have led them rather to say, ' such lowers about you,' 
i. e. a house or castle that could safely resist the as- 
saults of the weather. 

5 i. e. knowledge. 

6 Mr. Steevens had seen an old Flemish print in 
which Death was exhibited in the act of plundering a 
miser of his bae-s, and the Fool (discriminated by. his 
bauble, &c.) was standing behind and grinning at the 
process. The Dance of Death appears td'have been 



anciently a popular exhibition. A venerable and aged 
clergyman informed Mr. Steevens that he had once 
been a spectator of it. The dance consisted of Death's 
contrivances to surprise the Merry Andrew, and of the 
Merry Andrew's efforts to elude the stratagems of 
Death, by whom at last he was overpowered ; his finale 
being attended with such circumstances as mark the 
exit of the Dragon of Wantley. It should seem that the 
general idea of this serio-comic pas-de-deux had been 
borrowed from the ancient Dance of Machabre, com 
monly called the Dance of Death, which appears to havs 
been anciently acted in churches like the Moralities. The 
subject was a frequent ornament of cloisters both here 
and abroad. The reader will remember the beautiful 
series of wood-cuts of the Dance of Death, attributed, 
(though erroneously,) to Holbein. Mr. Douce is in pos- 
session of an exquisite set of initial letters, representing 
the same subject ; in one of which the Fool is engaged in 
a very stout combat with his adversary, and is actually 
buffeting him with a bladder filled with peas or pebbles, 
an instrument used by modern Merry Andrews. 

7 In Twine's translation of the story of Apollonius of 
Tyre this uncommon phrase, a-land, is repeatedly used 
In that version it is to Cerimon's pupil, Machaon, and 
not to Cerimon himself, that the lady is indebted for hei 
recovery. 

8 So in the Tempest : — 

' The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, 
And say what thou seest yond ? 



*80 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act IV. 



And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, 
Rare as you seem to be ! [She moves. 

Thai. O, dear Diana, 

Where am I ? Where's my lord ! What world is 
this? 1 

2 Gent. Is not this strange ? 

1 Gent. Most rare. 

Cer. Hush, gentle neighbours ; 

Lend me your hands : to the next chamber bear her. 
Get linen ; now this matter must be look'd to, 
For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come ; 
And jEsculapius guide us ! 
, [Exeunt carrying Thaisa away. 

SCENE III. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. 

Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, Lychori- 

da, and Marina. 

Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone ; 
My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands 
In a litigious peace. You, and your ladv, 
Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods 
Make up the rest upon you ! 

Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you 
mortally, 2 
Yet glance full wand'ringly on us. 

Dion. O, your sweet queen ! 

That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her 

hither, 
To have bless'd mine eyes! 

Per. We cannot but obey 

Tin- powers above us. Could I rage and roar 
As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end 
Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom 
For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so) here 
I charge your chanty withal, and leave her 
The infant of your care ; beseeching you 
To give her princely training, that she may be 
Manner' d as she is bom. 

Cle. Fear not, my lord, but think 3 

Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, 
(For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,) 
Must in your child be thought on. If neglectiun 
Should therein make me vile, the common body, 
By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty: 
But if to that my nature need a spur, 
The gods revenge it upon me and mine, 
To the end of generation ! 

Per. I believe you ; 

Your honour and your goodness teach me credit, 4 
Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, 
Bv bright Diana, whom we honour all, 
Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, 
Though I show will 4 in't. So I take mv leave. 



1 Tiiis is from the Confessio Amantis: — 

' And first tin- even iip she caste, 

And when she more of strength caught, 

Her amies both forth she straughte ; 

Held up hir honde, and pile 

She spake, an 1 said. Where am I? 

Whi re is my lurde .' What tcorldc is this ." 

2 The old copy reads :— 

'Your shu/.es of fortune, though they haunt you 
mortally. 

Yet glance full iDond'ringly,' &c. 
The folios have ' though jhey hale you.' The emenda- 
tion is by Steevens, who cites the following illustra- 
tions : — ' Omnibus tetis fortunes proposita sit vita nos- 
tra.' — Cicero Epist. Fam. 

' The shot of accident or dart of chance.'' Othello. 
' The slings and arrows of ourageous/orififte. 5 Hamlet. 
' I am glad, though you have taken a special stand to 
strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.' 

Merry Wires of Windsor. 
The sense .of the passage seems to be, all the malice of 
fortune is not confined to yourself, though her arrows 
strike deeply at. you, yet wandering from their mark, 
they sometimes glance on us; as at present,, when the 
uncertain state of Tyre deprives us of your company at 
Tharsus. 

3 i. e. be satisfied that we cannot forget the benefits 
you have bestowed on us. 

4 The old copy reads, 'teach me to it :' the alteration 
was made hy Steevens. - 

5 i. e. appear wilful, perverse by such conduct. The 
old copy reads in the preceding line : — 

' U/tsister'd shall this heir of mine,' &c. 



Good madam, make me blessed in your care 
In bringing up my child. 

Dion. I have one myself, 

Who shall not be more dear to my respect, 
Than yours, my lord. 

Per. Madam, my thanks and prayers. 

Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge a 
the shore ; 
Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune ; G and 
The gentlest winds of heaven. 

Per. I will embrace 

Your offer. Come, dear'st madam. — O, no tears, 
Lychorida, no tears : 

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace 
You may depend hereafter. — Come, my lord. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's 
House. Enter Cerimon and Thaisa. 

Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, 
Lay with you in' your coffer : which are now 
At vour command. Know you the character ? 

Thai. It is my lord's. 
That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, 
Even on my eaning' time ; but whether there 
Delivered or no, hy the holy gods, 
I cannot rightly say : But since King Pericles, 
My wedded lord, I tie'er shall see again, 
A vestal livery will I take me to, 
And never mure have joy. 

Cer. Madam, [f this you purpose as you speak, 
Diana's temple is not distant far, 
Where you may 'bide until your date expire 8 
Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine 
Shall there attend you. 

Thai. Mv recompense is thanks, that's all: 
Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. 

[Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 

Enter Gower. 9 
Goto. Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre, 
Welcom'd and settled to his own desire. 
His wofuj queen leave at Ephesus, - 
Unto Diana there a votaress. 
Now to Marina bend your mind, 
Whom our fast growing scene must find 10 
At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd 
In music, letters ; who hath gain'd 
Of education all the grace, 
Which makes her both the heart and place" 



The Corruption is obvious, as appears from a subsequent 

passage : — 

1 This ornament, that makes me look so dismal 
Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form,' Sic. 

6 i. e. Insidious waves that wear a treacherous smile 

' Subdola qoem ridet placidi pe liana ponti.' 

I.iirnt. ii. v. 559. 

7 The quarto, 1619, and the folio, 1664, which was pro- 
bably printed from it, both read eaning. The first quar- 
to reads learning. Steevens asserts that eaning is a 
term only applicable to sheep when they produce their 
young, and substituted '■yearning,' which he interprets 
• her groaning time.' But it should be observed that to 
in, i or i/ian, in our elder language, as in the Anglo 
Saxoji, signified to bring forth young, without any par 
ticular reference to sheep. I have therefore preferred the 
reading in the text to Steevens's conjecture. 

8 i. e. until you die. So in Romeo and Juliet: — 

' The date is out of such prolixity.' 
Again, in the same play : — 

' and expire the term 

Of a despised life.' 
And in the Rape of Lucrece :-— 

' An expir'd date, cancell'd ere wel'. begun.' 

9 This chorus, and the two following scenes, in the 
old editions, are printed as part of the third act. 

10 The same expression occurs in the chorus to The 
Winters Tale:— 

' your patience this allowing, 

I turn my glass, and give my scene such groicing 
As you had slept between.' 
It The old copies read— 

' Which makes high both the art and place.' 
The emendation is by Steevens. We still use the heart 



ScEHE I. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



SSI 



Of general wonder. But alack ! 

That monster envy, oft the wrack 

Of earned praise, Marina's life 

Seeks to take off by treason's knife. 

And in this kind hath our Cleon 

One daughter, and a wencli full grown, 

Even ripe for marriage fight ; this maid 

Hight Philoten : and it is said 

For certain in our story, she 

Would ever with Marina be : 

Be't when she weav'd the sleided 1 silk 

With fingers long, small, white as milk ; 

Or when she would with sharp neeld 2 wound 

The cambric, which she made more sound 

By hurting it ; or when to the lute 

She sung, and made the night-bird mute, 

That stiil records 3 with moan ; or when 

She would with rich and constant pen 

Vail 4 to her mistress Dian ; still 

This Philoten contends in skill 

With absolute 5 Marina : so 

With the dove of Paphos might the crow 

Vie feathers white. Marina gets 

All praises, which are paid as debts, 

And not as given. This so darks 

In Philoten all graceful marks, 

That Cleon's wife, with envy rare, 

A present murderer does prepare 

For good Marina, that her daughter 

Might stand peerless by this slaughter. 

The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, 

Lychorida, our nurse, is dead ; 

And cursed Dionyza hath 

The pregnant 6 instrument of wrath 

Prest for this blow. The unborn event 

I do commend to your content:' 

Only I carry winged time 

Post on the lame feet cf my rhyme ; 

Which never could I so convey, 

Unless your thoughts went on my way. — 



of oak for the central part of it, and the heart of the land 
in much such another sense. Place here signifies resi- 
dence. So in A Lover's Complaint : — 

'Love lack'd a dwelling, avid made him her place.' 

1 ' Sleided silk' is im wrought silk, prepared for weav- 
ing by passing it through the weaver's sley or reed- 
comb. 

2 The old copies read needle, but the metre shows 
that we should rea.dneeld. The word is thus abbrevia- 
ted in a subsequent passage in the first quarto. See 
King John, Act v. Sc. 2. 

3 To record anciently signified to sing. Thus in Sir 
Philip Sydney's Ourania, by [Nicholas Breton] 1606:— 

' Recording songs unto the Deitie.' 
The word is still used by bird fanciers. 

4 Vail is probably a misprint. Steevens suggesis that 
we should read ' Hail. 1 Malpne proposes to. substitute 
' wail.' 

o i. e. highly accomplished, perfect. So in Antony and 
Cleopatra : — 

' at sea 

He is an absolute master.' 
And in Green's Tu Quoque : — ' From an absolute and 
most complete gentleman, to a most absurd, ridiculous, 
and fond lover.' 

6 Pregnant in this instance means apt, quick. Prest 
is ready. 

7 ' I do commend to your content.' 
Steevens conjectures that the poet wrote consent instead 
of content : but observes that perhaps the passage as it 
stands may mean ' I wish you to find content in that por- 
tion of our play which has not yet-been exhibited.' 

5 The first quarto reads : — 

' — — . — Let not conscience, 

Which is but cold, inflaming thy love bosome, 

Enflame too nicelie, nor let pitie,' &.c. 
Malone reads : — 

' Let not conscience, 

Which is but cold, Inflame love in thy bosom, 

Inflame too nicely, nor let pity,' &c. 
Steevens proposed to omit the words, ' Inflame too nice- 
ly,' and ' which even,' adding the pronoun that, in the 
following manner : — 

' Let not conscience, 

Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom ; 

Nor let that pity women have cast off 

Melt thee, but be a soldier to thy purpose.' 



Dionyza does appear, 

With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit. 

SCENE I. Tharsus. An open Place near the Sea- 
shore. Enter Dionyza and Leonine. 

Dion, Thy oath remember ; tbou hast sworn to 
do it ; 
'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. 
Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon, 
To yield thee so much profit. Lei not conscience, 
Which is but cold, inflaming love, thy bosom 
Inflame too nicely ; 8 nor let pity, which 
Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be 
A soldier to thy purpose. 

Eeon. I'll do't ; but yet she isa goodly creature, 

Dion. The fitter then- the gods should have her 
Here 
Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. 9 
Thou art resolv'd ? 

Leon. I am resolv'd. 

Enter Marina, with a Basket of Flowerg. 

Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed, 
To strew thy green 10 with flowers: the yellows, bluesj, 
The purple violets, and marigolds, 
Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave, 
While summer days do last.' ' Ah me ! poor maid 
Born in a tempest, when my mother died, 
This world to me is like a lasting storm, 
Whirring 12 me from my friends. 

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?' 3 
How chance mv daughter is not with you ? Do not 
Consume your blood with sorrowing: 14 you have 
A nurse of me. Lord ! how your favour's 1 * chang'd 
With this unprofitable wo ! Come, come ; 
Give me your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea mar it- 
Walk forth with Leonine ; 1S the air is quick there 
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come : 
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. 

Mar. No, I pray you ; 
I'll not bereave you of your servant. 

Dion. Come, come ; 

I love the king your father, and yourself, 



The reading I have given is sufficiently intelligible, and 
deviates less from the old copy. Nicety here means ten- 
derly, fondly. 

9 The old copy reads : — 
' Here she comes weepins for her onely mistresse death.' 
As Marina had been trained in music, letters, &c. and 
had gained all the graces of education, Lychorida could 
not have been her only mistress. The suggestion and 
emendation are Dr. Percy's. 

10 This is the reading of the quarto copy ; the folio 
reads grave. Weed, in old language, meant garment. 

11 So in Cymbeline : — 

' with fairest flowers, 

While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
I'll sweeten thy sad grave.' 

The old copy reads, ' Shall as a carpet hang,' &c. The 

emendation is by Steevens. 

12 Thus the earliest copy. The second quarto, and all 
subsequent impressions, read : — 

' Hurrying me from my friends.' 
Whirring or whirrying had formerly the same mean- 
ing; a bird that flies with a quick motion is still said to 
whirr away. The verb to whirry is used in the ballad 
of Robin Goodfellow, Reliques of Ancient English 
Poetry, vol. ii. p. 203:— 

' More swift than winds away I go, 
O'er hedge and lands, 
Thro' pools and ponds, 
I whirry, laughing ho, ho, ho.' 
Whirring is often used by Chapman in his version of 
the Iliad ; so in book xvii. : — 

' through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt 

The whirring chariot.' 

13 So in Macbeth : 

' How now, my lord ! why do you keep alone . p ' 
And in King Henry IV. Part II. 

' How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother ? ' 
Milton employs a similar form of words in Comus, v. 
508:— 

' How chance she is not in your company ." 

14 In King Henry VI. Part II. we have 'blood-con- 
suming sighs.' 

15 Countenance, look. 

16 i. e. ere the sea by the coming in of the tide mar 
your walk. 



£82 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act IV 



With more than foreign heart. 1 We every day 
Expect him here : when he shall come, and find 
Our paragon to all reports, 2 thus blasted, 
He will repent the breadth of his great voyage ; 
Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta'en 
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you, 
Walk, and be cheerful once again ; reserve 3 
That excellent complexion, which did steal 
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me ; 
I can go home alone. 

Mar. Well, I will go ; 

But yet I have no desire to it. 

Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you, 
Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least ; 
Remember what I have said. 

Leon. I warrant you, madam. 

Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while ; 
Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood : 
What! I must have a care of you. 

Mar. Thanks, sweet madam. — 

[Exit Dionyza. 
Is this wind westerly that blows ? 

Leon. South-west. 

Mar When I was born, the wind was north. 

Leon. Was'tso? 

Mhr. My father, as nurse said, did never fear, 
But cry'd, Good seamen ! to the sailors, galling 
His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes ; 
And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea 
That almost bur-st the deck. 

Leon. When was this ? 

Mar. When I was born : 
Never was waves nor wind more violent ; 
And from the ladder-tackle washes off 
A canvass-climber. 4 Ha ! says one, wilt out ? 
And with a dropping industry they skip 
From stem to stern : the boatswain whistles, and 
The master calls and trebles their confusion. 4 

Leon. Come, say your prayers. 

Mar. What mean you ? 

Leon. If you require a little space for prayer, 
I grant it : Pray ! but be not tedious, 
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn 
To de my work with haste. 

Mar. Why will you kill me ? 

Leon. To satisfy my lady. 

Mar. Why should she have me kill'd ? 
Now, as I can remember, by my troth, 
I never did her hurt in all my life ; 
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn 
To any living creature : believe me, la, 
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: 
I trod upon a worm against my will, 
But I wept for it. How have I offended, 
Wherein my death might vield her profit, or 
My life imply her danger ? 

"Leon. ■ My commission 

Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. 

Dlar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. 
You are well-favour'd, and vour looks foreshow 
You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, 



1 That is, with the same warmth of affection as if I 
was his countryman. 

2 Our fair charge, whose beauty was once equal to all 
that fame said of it. So in Othello : — 

' He hath achiev'd a maid 

That paragons description and wild fame.'' 

3 Reserve has here the force of preserve. So in 
Shakspeare's thirty-second Sonnet :— 

' Reserve them for my love, not for their rhymes.' 

4 i. e. a sailor, one who climbs the mast to furl or 
unfurl the canvass or sails. 

5 Mr. Steevens thus regulates and reads this passage : 
' That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-tackle 
Washed off a canvas-climber. Ha ! says one, 

Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry 

They skip from stem to stern : The boatswain whistles, 

The master calls, and trebles their confusion. 

Le.on. And when was this? 

Mar. It teas when I was born : 

Never was waves nor wind more violent. 

Leon. Come, say your prayers speeddy.' 1 

6 Old copy reads ' roguing thieves.'' 

1 The Spanish armada perhaps furnished this name. 



When you caught hurt in parting two that fought : 
Good sooth, it show'd well in you : do so now : 
Your lady seeks my life : come you between, 
And save poor me, the weaker. 

Leon. I am sworn, 

And will despatch. 

Enter Pirates, whilst Marina is struggling. 

1 Pirate. Hold, villain! [Leonine runs away. 

2 Pirate. A prize ! a prize* ! 

3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's 
have her aboard suddenly. 

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina. 
SCENE II. The same. Re-enter Leonine. 
Leon. These roving 6 thieves serve the great pirate 
Valdes ; 7 
And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go : 
There's no hope she'll return. I'll swear she's dead, 
And thrown into the sea. — But I'll see further ; 
Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, 
Not carry her aboard. If she remain, 
Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain. 

[Exit. 

SCENE III. Mitylene. A Room in a Brothel. 
Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult. 

Pand. Boult. 

Boult. Sir. 

Pand. Search the market narrowly ; Mitylene is 
full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart, 
by being too wenchless. 

Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. 
We have but poor three, and they can do no more 
than they can do ; and with continual action are 
even as good as rotten. 

Pand. Therefore, let's have fresh ones, what e'er 
we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to 
be used in every trade, we shall never prosper. 

Bawd. Thou say'st true : 'tis not the bringing up 
of poor bastards, as I think I have brought up some 
eleven 

Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down 
again. 8 But shall I search the market? 

Bawd. What else, man? The stuff we have, a 
strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so piti- 
fully sodden. 

Pand. Thou say'st true ; they are too unwhole- 
some o' conscience. The poor Transilvanian is 
Jead, that lay with the little baggage. 

Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped liim ; she made 
him roast meat for worms : — hut I'll go search the 
market. [Exit Boult. 

Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were as 
pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. 

Bawd. Why to give over, I pray you? is it a 
shame to get when we are old ? 

Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the com- 
modity ; nor the commodity wages not with the 
danger ; 9 therefore, if in our youths we could pick 
up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep 



Don Pedro de Valdes was an admiral in that fleet, and 
had the command of the great galleon of Andalusia. 
His ship being disabled, he was taken by Sir Francis 
Drake on the 22d of July, 1588, and sent to Dartmouth 
This play was not written, we may conclude, till after 
that period. The making one of this Spaniard's ances- 
tors a pirate, was probably relished by the audience in 
those days. There is a particular account of this Valdes 
in Robert Greene's Spanish Masquerade, 1589. He was 
then prisoner in England. 

8 I have brought up (i. e. educated,) says the bawd, 
some eleven. Yes, answers Boult, to eleven, (i. e. as 
far as eleven years of age,) and then brought them 
down again. The latter clause of the sentence requires 
no explanation. In the play of The Weather, by John 
Heywood, 4to. blk. 1. Merry Report says :— 

' Oft tyme is sene both in court and towne, 
Longe be women a bryngymge up, and seme brought 
doicn.' 

9 i. e. is not equal to it. So in Othello : — 

' To wake and wage a danger profitless.' 
And in Antony and Cleopatra, vol. viii :— 

' his taunts and honours 

Wag^d equal with him.' 



Scene HI. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



383 



our door hatch'd. 1 Besides, the sore terms we 
stand upon with the gods, will be strong with us lor 
giving over. 

Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we. 

Pawl. As well as we ! ay, and better too ; we 
offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade ; 
it's no calling : — but here comes Boult. 

Enter the Pirates, and Boult, dragging in 
Marina. 

Boult. Come your ways. [To Marina. J — My 
masters, you say she's a virgin ? 

1 Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it.not. 

Boult. Master,, I have gone thorough 2 for this 
piece, you see : if you like her, so ; if not, I have 
lost my earnest. 

Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities ? 

Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has 
excellent good clothes ; there's no further necessity 
of qualilies can make her be refused. 

Bawd. What's her price, Boult? 

Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand 
pieces. 

Pand. Well, follow me, my masters ; you shall 
have your money presently. Wife, take her in ; 
instruct her what she has to do, that she may not 
be raw 3 in her entertainment. 

[Exeunt Pander and Pirates. 

Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her ; the 
colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with 
warrant of her virginity ; and cry, He that will give 
most, shall have her first. Such a maidenhead were 
no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. 
Get this done as I command you. 

Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit Boltlt. 

Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow ! 
(He should have struck, not spoke ;) or that these 

pirates 
(Not enough barbarous) had not overboard 
Thrown me, to seek my mother ! 

Baied. Why lament you, pretty one ? 

Mar. That I am pretty. 

Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in 
you. 

Mar. I accuse them not. 

Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where you are 
like to live.' 

Mar. The more my fault, 
To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die. 

Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. 

Mar. No. 

Bawd. Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste gentle- 
men of all fashions. You shall fare well ; you shall 
have the difference of all complexions. What ! do 
you stop your ears ? 

Mar. Are you a woman ? 

Bawd. What would you have me be, an I be 
not a woman 1 

Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. 

Bawd. Marry, whip thee, gosling : I think I shall 
have something to do with you. Come, you are a 



1 A hatch is a half door,- sometimes placed within a 
street door, preventing access farther than the entry of 
a house. When the top of a hatch was guarded by a 
row of spikes, no person could reach over arm undo its 
fastening, which was always within side, and near its 
bottom. This domestic portcullis perhaps was neces- 
sary to our ancient brothels. Secured within such a 
barrier, Mrs. Overdone could parley with her custom- 
ers, refuse admittance to the "shabby visitor, bargain 
with the rich gallant, defy the beadle, or keep the con- 
stable at bay. From having been her usual defence, 
the hatch became the unequivocal denotement of her 
trade ; for though the hatch vjith a flat top was a con- 
stant attendant on butteries in great families, colleges, 
&c. the hatch with spikes on it was peculiar to early 
houses of amorous entertainment, and Mr. Steevens 
was informed that the bagnios of D ublin were not long 
since so defended Malone exhibited a copy eta wood 
cut, prefixed to an old pamphlet entitled Holland's 
Leaguer, 4to. 1632, in which is a representation of a 
celebrated brothel, on the Bank side, near the Globe 
play-house, in which he imagined the hatch was deli- 
neated Steevens has pleasantly bantered him upon it. 



young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I 
would have you. 

Mar. The gods defend me ! 

Bawd. If it please the gods to defend you by 
men, then men must comfort you, men must feed 
you, men must stir you up. — Boult's returned. 

Enter Boult. 
Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market ? 

Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of 
her hairs ; I have drawn her picture with my voice. 

Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou 
find the inclination of the people, especially of the 
younger sort ? 

Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they would 
have hearkened to their father's testament. There 
was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went 
to bed to her very description. 

Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with 
his best ruff on. 

Boult. To-night, to night. But, mistress, do you 
know the French knight that cowers 4 i' the hams ? 

Bawd. Who ? Monsieur Veroles ? 

Boult. Ay ; he offered to cut a caper at the pro- 
clamation ; but he made a groan at it, and swore 
he would see her to-morrow. 

Bawd. Well, well ; as for him, he brought his 
disease hither : here he does but repair it. 5 I know, 
he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns 
in t,he sun. 6 

Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a travel- 
ler, we should lodge them with this sign. 7 

Bawd. Pray you, come hither awhile. You have 
fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you must 
seem to do that fearfully, which you commit wil- 
lingly ; to despise profit, where you have most 
gain. To weep that you live as you do. makes pity 
in your lovers : Seldom, but that pity begets you a 
good opinion, and that opinion a mere 8 profit. 

Mar. I understand you not. 

Boult. O, take her horn?, mistress, take her 
home : these blushes of hers must be quenched 
with some present practice. 

Bawd. Thou say'st true, i' faith, so they must : 
for your bride goes to that with shame, which is 
her way to go with warrant. 

Boult. 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, 
mistress, if I have bargained for the joint, 

Bawd. Thou may'st cut a morsel off the spit. 

Boult. I may so. 

Bawd. Who should deny it ? Come, young one, 
I like the manner of your garments well. 

Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed 
yet. 

Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town : re 
port what a sojourner we have : you'll lose nothing 
by custom. When nature framed this piece, she 
meant thee a good turn ; therefore say what a pa- 
ragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine 
own report. 

The reader may see the cut and the raillery in the 
variorum Sha'kspeare. 

2 i. e. bid a high price for her. 

3 i. e. unripe, unskilful. So in Hamlet : — ' And yet 
but raid neither in respect of his full sail.' 

4 To cower is to sink or crouch down. Thus in King 
Henry VI. :— 

1 The splitting rocks coxo^rd in the sinking sands.' 
Again in Gammer Gurton's Needle : — 
' They coioer so o'er the coles, their eies be blear'd 
with smoke.' 

5 i. e. renovate it. So in Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 2. :— 

' O, disloyal thing ! 

Thou shouid'st repair my youth.' 

6 The allusion is to the French coin ecus de solcil 
crowns of the sun. The meaning of the passage is 
merely this, ' That the French knight will set-k the 
shade of their house to scatter his money there.' 

7 ' If a traveller from every part of the globe were 
to assemble in Mitylene, they would all resort to this 
house, while we had such a sign to it as this virgin ' A 
similar eulogv is pronounced on Imogen in Cymbel je : 
'She's a good sign; but I have seen small refieofron 
of her wit.' 

S i. e. an absolute, a certain profit. 



384 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act IV. 



Boult. I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not 
so awake the beds of eels, 1 as my giving out her 
beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home 
some to-night. 

Bawd. Come your ways ; follow me. 

I\Iar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, 
Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. 
Diana, axl my purpose ! 

Bavxi. What have we to do with Diana ? Pray 
you, will you go with us ? [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. 
Enter Cleox and Dionyza. , 

Dion. Why, are you foolish ? Can it be undone ? 

Cle. O, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter 
The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon ! 

Dion. I think 

You'll turn a child again. 

Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world, 
I'd give it to undo the deed. 2 O, lady, 
Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess 
To equal any single crown o' the eartn, 
I' the justice of compare ! O, villain Leonine, 
Whom thou hast poison'd too ! 
If thou had'st drunk to him, it had been a kindness 
Becoming well thy feat : ' what canst thou say, 
When noble Pericles shall demand his child ? 

Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates 
To foster it, nor ever to preserve. 
She died at night ; I'll say so. Who can cross it ? 
Unless you play the impious innocent, 4 
And for an honest attribute, cry out, 
She died by foul play. 

Cle. O, go to. Well, well, 

Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods 
Do like this worst. 

Dion. Be one of those, that think 

The pretty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence, 
And open this to Pericles. I do shame 
To think of what a noble strain you are, 
And of how coward a spirit. 

Cle. To such proceeding 

Who ever but his approbation added, 
Though not his pre-consent, he did not flow 
From honourable courses. 

Dion. Be it so, then : 

Yet none docs know, but you, how she came dead, 
Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. 



She did distain 5 my child, and stood between 
Her and her fortunes : None would look on her, 
But cast their gazes on Marina's face ; 
Whilst ours was blurted 6 at, and held a malkin, 7 
Not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me thorough ; 
And though you call my course unnatural, 
You not your child well loving, yet I find, 
It greets me 8 as an enterprise of kindness, 
Perform'd to your sole daughter. 

Cle. Heavens forgive it! 

Dion. And as for Pericles, 
What should he say ? We wept after her hearse, 
And even yet we mourn ; her monument 
Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs 
In glittering golden characters express 
A general praise to her, and care in us 
At whose expense 'tis done. 

Cle. Thou art like the harpy, 

Which, to betray, doth with thine angel's face 
Seize with thine eagle's talons. 9 

Dion. You are like one, that superstitiously 

Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies; 10 

But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt. 

Enter Gower, before the Monument of Marina at 

Tharsus. 

Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues 
make short ; 
Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't ; 
Making 1 ' (to take your imagination,) 
From bourn to bourn, region to region. 
By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime 
To use one language, in each several clime, 
Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you, 
To learn of me, who stand i' the gap to teach you 
The stages of our story. Pericles 
Is now again thwarting the wayward seas 12 
(Attended on by many a lord and knight,) 
To see his daughter, all his life's delight. 
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late 13 
Advanc'd in time to great and high estate, 
Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, 
Old Helicanus goes along behind. 
Well sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have 

brought 
This king to Tharsus (think this pilot-thought ;'* 
So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on, 5 
To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. 1 * 



1 Thunder is supposed to have the effect of rousing 
eels from the mud, and so render them more easy to 
take in stormy weather. Maiston alludes to this in his 
Satires : — 

• They are nought but eeles that never will appeare 
Till that tempestuous winds, or thunder, teare 
Their slimy beds.' 

2 So in Macbeth : — ' Wake Duncan with this knock- 
ing: — Ay, 'would, thou couldst !' In Pericles, as in 
Macbeth, the wile is more criminal than the husband, 
whose repentance follows immediately on the murder. 

3 Tne old copy reads face. The emendation is Ma- 
son's. Feat is deed, or exploit. 

4 An innoci nt was formerly a common appellation for 
an idiot. She calls him an impious simpleton, because 
such a discovery would touch the life of one of his own 
family, his wile. This is the ingenious interpretation of 
Malone ; but I incline to' think with Mason that we 
should read, ' the pious innocent.' 

o The old copy reads, 'She did disdain my child.' 
But Marina was not of a disdainful temper. Her ex- 
cellence indeed eclipsed the meaner qualities of her com- 
panion, i. e. in the language of the poet, distainedthem. 
In Tarquin and Lucrece we meet with the same verb 
again : — 

' Were Tarquin night, (as he is but night's child,) 
The silver-shining queen he would distain.'' 
The verb is several times used by Shakspeare in the 
sense of to eclipse, to throw into the shade ; and not in 
that of to disgrace, as Steevens asserts. 

The same cause for Dionyza's hatred to Marina is 
also alleged in Twine's translation : — ' The people be- 
holding the beautie and comlinesse of Tharsia, said — 
Happy is the father that hath Tharsia to his daughter ; 
but her companion that goeth with her is foule and ill- 
favoured. When Dionisiades heard Tharsia commend- 
ed, and liei owne daughter, Philnmacia. so dispraised, 
she returned home wonderful wrath,' Stc. 



6 This contemptuous expression frequently occurs \t 
our ancient dramas. So in King Edward III. 1596 : — 

' This day hath set derision on the French, 
And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.' 

7 A coarse wench, not worth a good morrow. 

8 ' It greets me' appears to mean it salutes me, or is 
grateful to me. So in Kin? Henry VIII': — 

' 'Would, I had no being, 
If this salute my blood a jot.' 

9 'With thine angel's face,' &c. means ' You having 
an angel's face, a look of innocence, have at the same 
time an eagle's talons.' 

10 This passage appears to mean, ' You are so affect- 
edly humane, that you would appeal to heaven against 
the cruelly of winter in killing the flies. Superstitious 
is explained by Johnson, scrupulous beyond need.'^- 
Boswell. 

11 So in a former passage:— ' O, make for Tharsus. 
Making, &c. is travelling (with the hope of engaging 
your attention) from one division or boundary of the 
world to another ; i. e. we hope to interest you by the 
variety of nur scene, and the different countries through 
which we pursue our story.— We still use a phrase ex- 
actly corresponding with lake your imagination; i. e. 
' to take one's fancy.' 

12 So in King Henry V.:— 

' and there being seen, 

Heave him away upon your winged thoughts 
Mhwart the seas.' 

13 These lines are strangely misplaced in the old copy 
The transposition and corrections are by Steevens. 

14 This is the reading of the old copy, which Malone 
altered to 'Ats pilot thought.' I do not see the necessity 
of the cha' ge. The passage as it is will bear the inter 
pretation jiven to the correction :— ' Let your imagina 
tion steer with him, be his pilot, and, by accompanying 
him in his voyage, think this pilot-thought.' 

15 Who has left Tharsus before her father's arrival 
there. 



ScEIJE IV. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



38S 



Like motes and shadows see them move awhile ; 
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. 

Dumb Show. 
Enter at one Door, Pericles, with his Train; 
Cleon and Dionyza at the other. Cleon shows 
Pericles the Tomb of Marina ; whereat Peri- 
cles makes lamentation, puts on Sackcloth, and in 
a mighty passion departs. Then Cleon and 
Dionfza retire. 

Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul show ! 
This borrow'd passion stands for true old wo ;' 
And Pericles^ in sorrow all devour'd, 
With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'er- 

show'r'd, 
Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears 
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs ; 
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears 
A tempest, which his mortal vessel 2 tears, 
And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit 3 
The epitaph is for Marina writ 
By wicked Dionyza. 

[Reads the Inscription on Marina's Monument. 
The fairest, sweet'st,* and best, lies here, 
Who withered in her spring of year. 
She was of Tyrus, the king's daughter, 
On whom foul death hath made this slaughter, 
Marina was she calVd ; and at her birth, 
Thetis, b being proud, swallowed some part o' the earth: 
Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erfiow'd, 
Hath Thetis birth-child on the heavens bestow'd : 
Wherefore she does {and swears she'll never stint,) s 
Make raging battery upon shores of flint. 
No visor does become black villany, 
So well as soft and tender flattery. 
Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, 
And bear his courses to be ordered 
By lady fortune ; while our scenes display 
His daughter's wo and heavy well-a-day, 
In her unholy service. Patience, then, 
And think vou now are all in Mitylen. [Exit. 

SCENE V. Mitylene. A Street before the Brothel. 
Enter, from the Brothel, Two Gentlemen. 

1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like ? 

2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place 
as this, she being once gone. 

1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there ! did 
vou ever dream of such a thing? 

2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy- 
houses : shall we go hear the vestals sing? 

1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous ; 
but I am out of the road of rutting, for ever. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VT. The same. A Room in the Brothel. 
Enter Pander, Bawd, and Bottlt. 

Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of 
her, she had ne'er come here. 

Bawd. Fie, fie upon her : she is able to freeze 
the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We 



1 i. e. for such tears as were shed when the world 
being in its infancy, dissimulation was unknown. .Per- 
haps, however, we ought to read, ' true told wo.' 

2 So in King Richard III. : — 

' O, then began the tempest of my soul.' 
What is here called his mortal vessel (i. e. his body) is 
styled by Cleopatra her mortal house. 

3 ' Now be pleased to know.' So in Gower : — 

' In which the lorde hath to him writte 
That he would understand and witte.' 

4 SweeVst must be read here as a monosyllable, as 
highest in the Tempest : — ■ Highest queen of state,' &c. 
Steevens observes that we might more elegantly read, 
omitting the conjunction and — 

' The fairest, sweetest, best, lies here.' 

5 The inscription alludes to the violent storm which 
accompanied the birth of Marina ; at which time the 
sea, proudly overswelling its bounds, swallowed, as is 
usual in such hurricanes, some part of the earth. The 
poet ascribed the swelling of the sea to the pride which 
Thetis felt at the birth of Marina in her element ; and 
supposes that the earth, being afraid to be overflowed, 
bestowed this birth-child of Thetis on the heavens ; and 

58 



must either get her ravish'd, or be rid of her. When 
she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the 
kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, 
her reasons, her master-reasons, her prayers, her 
knees ; that she would make a puritan of the devil, 
if he should cheapen a kiss of her. 

Boult. 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfur- 
nish us of all our cavaliers, and make all our swear- 
ers priests. 

Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for 
me! 

Bawd. 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, but 
by the way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Ly- 
simachus, disguised. 

Boult. We should have both lord and lown, if 
the peevish baggage would but give way to cus- 
tomers. 

Enter Lysimachus. 

Lys. How now ? How' a dozen of virginities ? 

Bawd.'Now, the gods to-bless 8 your honour ! 

Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good 
health. 

Lys. You may so ; 'tis the better for you that 
your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now, 
wholesome iniquity ? Have you that a man may 
deal withal, and defy the surgeon? 

Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she would 

but there never came her like in Mitylene. 

Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou 
would'st say. 

Bawd. Your honour knows what 'tis to say well 
enough. 

Lys. Well ; call forth, call forth. 

Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red you 
shall see a rose ; and she were a rose indeed, if she 
had but 

Lys. What, pr'ythee ? 

Boult. O, sir, I can be modest. 

Lys. That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less 
than it gives a good report to an anchor 9 to bo 
chaste. 

Enter Marina. 

Bawd. Here comes that which grows to the stalk • 
— never plucked yet, I can assure you. Is she not 
a fair creature ? 

Lys. 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage 
at sea. Well, there's for you ; — leave us. 

Bawd. I beseech your honour, give me leave : a 
word, and I'll have done presently. 

Lys. I beseech you, do. 

Bawd. First, I would have you note, this is an 
honourable man. [To Mar. whom she takes aside. 

Mar. I desire to find him so, that I may worthily 
note him. 

Bawd. Next, he's the governor of this country, 
and a man whom I am bound to. 

Mar. If he govern the country, you are bound to 
him indeed ; but how honourable he is in that, I 
know not. 

Bawd. 'Pray you, without any more virginal 11 ' 



that Thetis, in revenge, makes raging battery against 
the shores. — Mason. 

6 i. e. never cease. 

7 This is Justice Shallow's mode of asking the price 
of a different kind of commodity : — 

' How a score of ewes now ?' 

8 The use of to in composition with verbs is very 
common in Gower and Chaucer. 

9 The old copy, which both Steevens and Malone con 
sidered corrupt in this place, read's, ' That dignifies the 
renown of a bawd, no less than it gives good report to a 
number to be chaste.' I have ventured to substitute an 
anchor, i. e. hermit, or anchoret. The word being f or 
merly written ancher, anchor, and even anker, it is evi. 
dent that in old MSS. it might readily be mistaken for « 
number. The word is used by the Player Queen in 
Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2 :— 

' An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope.' 
It is evident that some character contrasted to bawd is 
required by the context. 

10 This uncommon adjective is again used in Coruv 
lanus : — 

' the virginal palms of your daughters.' 



/ 



388 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Ac* I Tl 



fencing, wiK you use him kindly ? He will line your 
apron with £old. 

Mar. What he will do graciously, I will thank- 
fully receive. 

Lys. Have you done ? 

Bawd. My lord, she's not paced' yet ; you must 
take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, 
we will leave his honour and her together. 

[Exeunt Bawd, Pander, and Boult. 

I-ys. Go thy ways. — Now, pretty one, how long 
have you been at this trade ? 

Mar. What trade, sir? 

Lys. What I cannot name but I shall offend. 

Mar. I cannot be offended with my trade. Please 
you to name it. 

Lys. How long have you been of this profession ? 

Mar. Ever since I can remember. 

Lys. Did you go to it so young ? Were you a 
gamester 2 at five, or at seven ? 

Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. 

Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, proclaims 
you to be a creature of sale. 

Mar. Do you know this house to be a place of 
such resort, and will come into it? I hear say, you 
are of honourable parts, and are the governor of 
this place. 

Lys. Why, hath your principal made known unto 
you who I am? 

Mar. Who is my principal? 

Lys. Why, your herb-woman: she that sets seeds 
and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you have 
heard something of my power, and so stand aloof 
for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, 

firetty one, my authority shall not see thee, or else, 
ook friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some 
private place. Come, come. 

Mar. If you were born to honour, show it now ; 
If put upon you, make the judgment good 
That thought you worthy of it. 

Lys. How's this? how's this? — Some more; — 
be sage. 3 

Mar. For me, 

That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune 
Hath plac'd me here within this loathsome stie, 
Where, since I came, diseases have been sold 
Dearer than physic, — O, that the good gods 
Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, 
Though they did change me to the meanest bird 
That tlies i' the purer air* 

Lys. I did not think 

Thou could'st have spoke so well ; ne'er drearn'd 

thou could'st. 
Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, 
Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for 

. thee : 
Perscver still in that clear* way thou goest, 
And the gods strengthen thee! 

Mar. The gods preserve you ! 

Lys. For me, be you thoughten 

That I come with no ill intent ; for to me 
The very doors and windows savour vilely. 
Farewell. Thou art a piece of virtue, 5 and 
I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. — 



1 A term from the equestrian art ; but still in familiar 
language applied to persons, chiefly in a bad sense, with 
its compound thorough-paced. 

2 i. e. a wanton. 

3 Lysimachus must be supposed to say this sneering- 
ly — ' Proceed with your fine moral discourse.' 

'i Clear is pure, innocent. Thus in The Two Noble 
Kinsmen : — 

For the sake 

Of clear virginity, be advocate 
For us and our distresses.' 
So in The Tempest : — 

' nuthing but heart's sorrow, 

And a clear life ensuing.' 

5 ' thy mother was 

Apiece of virtue.' Tempest. 

So in Antony and Cleopatra, alluding to Octavia: — 
' Let not the piece of virtue, which is set 
Betwixt us.' 

6 i. e. under the cope or canopy of heaven. 

7 Steeyens thinks that there may be some allusion 



Hold ; here's more gold for thee.— 

A curse upon him, die he like a thief, 

That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou hear si 

from me, 
It shall be for thy good. 

[As Lysimachus is putting up his Purse, 
Boult enters. 

Boult. I beseech your honour, one piece for me. 

Lys. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper ! Your 
house, 
But for this virgin that doth prop it up, 
Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away ! 

[Exit Lysimachus, 

Boult. How's this ? We must take another course 
with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not 
worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the 
cope, 6 shall undo a whole household, let me be 
gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways. 

Mar. Whither would you have me : 

Botdt. I must have your maidenhead taken off", 
or the common hangman shall execute it. Come 
your way. We'll have no more gentlemen driven 
away. Come your ways, I say. 
Re-enter Bawd. 

Bawd. How now ! what's the matter ? 

Boult. Worse and worse, mistress ; she has here 
spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus. 

Bawd. 0, abominable ! 

Bnult She makes our profession as it were, to 
stink afore the face of the gods. 

Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever! 

Boult. The nobleman would have dealt with her 
like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as 
a snowball ; saying his prayers too. 

Bawd. Boult, take her away: use her at thy 
pleasure : crack the glass of her virginity, and make 
the rest malleable. 7 

Boult. An if she were a thornier piece of ground 
than she is, she shall be ploughed. 8 

Mar. Harl<, hark, you gods ! 

Bawd. She conjures : away with her. . 'Would, 
she had never come within my doors ! Marry, hang 
you ! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the 
way of womankind 1 Marry come up, my dish of 
chastity with rosemary and bays ! 3 [Exit Bawd. 

Boult. Come, mistress ; come your way with me. 

Mar. Whither would you have me ? 

Boult. To take from you the jewel you hold so 
dear. 

Star. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first. 

Boult. Come now, your one thing. 10 

Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? 

Boult. Why, I could wish him to be my master, 
or rather, my mistress. 

Mar. Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art, 
Since they do better thee in their command. 
Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend 
Of hell would not in reputation change : 
Thou'rt the damn'd door-keeper to every coystrel.' 1 



here to a fact recorded by Dion Cassius, and by Pliny, 
b. xxvi. cli. xxvi. ; but more circumstantially by Petro- 
nius. Var. Edit. p. 189. A skilful workman, who had 
discovered the an of making glass malleable, carried a 
specimen of it to Tiberius, who asked him if he alone 
was in possession of the secret. He replied in the af- 
firmative : on which the tyrant ordered his head to be 
struck off immediately, lest his invention should have 
proved injurious to the workers in gold, silver, and 
other metals. The same story, however, is told in the 
Gesta Romanorum, c. 44. 

8 Thus also in Antony and Cleopatra :— 

' She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed, 
He ploughed her, and she cropp'd.' 

9 Anciently many dishe3 were served up with this 
garniture, during the season of Christmas. The Bawd 
means to call her a piece of ostentatious virtue. 

10 So in King Henry IV. Part 11.:— 

'P. Hen. Shall 1 tell thee one thing, Poms ? 
Poins. Go to, I stand the push of your one thing.'' 

1 1 A coystrel is a low mean prison. 
Tib was a common name for a strumpet. 

' They wondred much at Tom, but at Tib more ; 

Faith (quoth the vicker) 'tis an exlent w ' 

Nosce Te, by Richard Turner. 1607 



Spews V. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



387 



That hither comes inquiring for his tib ; 
To the choleric fisting of each rogue thy ear 
Is liable ; thy very food is such 
As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs. 1 

Boult. What would you have me ? go to the wars, 
would you ? where a man may serve seven years 
for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in 
the end to buy him a wooden one ? 

Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty 
Old receptacles, common sewers, of filth ; 
Serve by indenture to the common hangman ; 
Any of these ways are better yet than this : 
For that which thou professest, a baboon, 
Could he speak, would own a name too dear.* 

that the gods would safely from this placd 
Deliver me ! Here, here is gold for thee. 

If that thy master would gain aught by me, 
Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance, 
With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast ; 
And I will undertake all these to teach. 

1 doubt not but this populous city will 
Yield many scholars. 

Boult But can you teach ail tbfs you speak of? 

Mar. Prove that I cannct, take me home again, 
And prostitute me to the basest groom 
That doth frequent you; house. 

Boult . Well, I will see what I can do for thee : 
if I can place thee, Twill. 

Mar. But, amongst honest women? 

Boult. 'Faith, ny acquaintance lies little amongst 
them. But sin^e my master and mistress have 
bought you, there's no going but by their consent : 
therefore I will make them acquainted with your 
purpose, ar?d I doubt not but I shall find them tracta- 
ble enough. Come, I'll do for thee what I can ; 
come your ways. [Exeunt 



ACT V. 

Enter Gower. 
Grow. Marina thus the brothel scapes, and chances 
Into an honest house, our story says. 
She sings like one immortal, and she dances 
As goddess-like to her admired lays : 
Deep clerks she dumbs, 3 and with her neeld 4 com- 
poses 
Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry ; 
That even her art sisters the natural roses : 
Her inkle 5 silk, twin with the rubied cherry : 
That pupils lacks she none of noble race, 
Who pour their bounty on her ; and her gain 
She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place ; 
And to her father turn our thoughts again, 
Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost ; 
Whence driven before the winds, he is arriv'd 
Here where his daughter dwells ; and on this coast 
Suppose him now at anchor. The city striv'd 6 



1 Steevens observes that Marina, who is designed as 
a character of juvenile innocence, appears much too 
knowing in the impurities of a brothel; nor are her 
expressions more chastised than her ideas. 

i That is, a baboon would think his tribe dishonour- 
ed by such a profession. Iago says, ' Ere I would 
drown myself, &c. I would change my humanity with 
a baboon.' In this speech Steevens has made some 
trifling regulations to improve the metre. 

3 The following passage from A Midsummer Night's 
Dream is adduced only on account of the similarity of 
expression, the sentiments being very different. The- 
seus confounds those who address him, by his superior 
dignity ; Marina silences the learned persons, with 
whom she converses, by her literary superiority. 

' Where I have come great clerks have purposed 
To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
Throttle their practis'd accents in their fears, 
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, 
Not paying me a welcome.' 
We have the verb to dumb again in Antony and Cleo 
patra :— 

' that what I would have spoke 

Was beastly dumb by him ' 
4 Needle. 



God Neptune's annual feast to keep : from whence 
Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, 
His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense 
And to him in his barge with fervour hies. 
In your supposing once more put your sight ; T 
Of heavy Pericles think this the bark : 
Where, what is done in action, more, if might, 8 
Shall be discover'd ; please you, sit, and hark. 

[Exit. 

SCENE I. On board Pericles' Ship, oJfMity- 
lene. A close Pavilion on deck, with a Curtain 
before it ; Pericles within it, reclined on a Couch. 
A Barge lying beside the Tyrian Vessel. Enter 
Two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian Vessel, 
the other to the Barge ; to them Helicanus. 
Tyr. Sail. Where's the Lord Helicanus ? he can 
resolve you. [To the Sailor of Mitylene. 

O, here he is. 

Sir, there's a barge put off from Mitylene, 

And in it is Lysimachus the governor, 

Who craves to come aboard. What is your will? 
HeL That he have his. Call up some gentlemen, 
Tyr. Sail. Ho, gentlemen ! my lord calls. 

Enter Two Gentlemen. 
1 Gent. Doth your lordship call ? 
Hel. Gentlemen, 
There is some of worth would come aboard ; I pray 

y° u > 

To greet them fairly. 

[The Gentlemen and the Two Sailors descend, 
and go on board the Barge. 

Enter, from thence, Lysimachus and Lords ; the 
Tyrian Gentlemen, and the Two Sailors. 

Tyr. Sail. Sir, 
This is the man that can, in aught you would, 
Resolve you. 

Lys. Hail, reverend sir ! the gods preserve you ! 

Hel. And you, sir, to outlive the age I am, 
And die as I would do. 

Lys. You wish me well. 

Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs, 
Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, 
I made to it, to know of whence you are. 

Hel. First, sir, what is your place ? 

Lys. I am governor of this place you ho before. 

Hel. Sir, 
Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king : 
A man, who for this three months hath not spoken 
To any one, nor taken sustenance, 
But to prorogue 3 his grief. 

Lys. Upon what ground is his distemperatme ? 

Hel. Sir, it would be too tedious to repeat ; 
But the main grief of all springs from the loss 
Of a beloved daughter and a wife. 

Lys. May we not see him, then ? 

Hel. You may, indeed, sir 

But bootless is your sight ; he will not speak 
To any. 

Lys. Yet, let me obtain my wisn. 



5 Inkle appears to have been a particular kind of 
silk thread or worsted used in embroidery. Rider 
translates inkle by Jilum textile. 

6 Steevens thinks that we should read, ' The city's 
hiv'd,' i. e. the citizens are collected like bees in a hive. 
We have the verb in the Merchant of Venice :— 'Drones 
hive not with me.' 

7 ' Once more put your sight under the guidance of 
your imagination. Suppose you see what we cannot 
exhibit to you ; think this stage the bark of the me- 
lancholy Pericles.' 

8 'Where all that may be displayed in action shall 
be exhibited; and more should be shown, if our stage 
would permit.' The poet seems to be aware of the 
difficulty of representing the ensuing scene. Some 
modern editions read, ' more of might ;' which, if there 
was authority for it, should seem to mean ' more of 
greater consequence.' 

9 To lengthen or prolong his grief. Prorogued is 
used in Romeo and Juliet for delayed : — 

' My life were better ended by their hate, 
XhRn de^th prprnn r "•■■ Mfsoftby love.' 



388 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



Act T, 



Hel. Behold him, jir: [Pericles discovered.*] 
this was a goodly person, 
Till the disaster, that, one mortal night, 8 
Drove him to this. 
Lys. Sir, king, all hail! the gods preserve you! 
Hail, 
Hail, royal sir ! 

Hel. It is in vain ; he will not speak to you. 
1 Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene, I durst 
wager, 
Would win some words of him. 3 

Lys. 'Tis well bethought. 

She, questionless, with her sweet harmony 
And other choice attractions, would allure, 
And make a battery through his deafen'd parts,* 
Which now are midway stopp'd : 
She is all happy as the" fairest of all, 
And, with her fellow maids, is now upon 5 
The leafy shelter that abuts against 
The island's side. 

[He whispers one of the attendant Lords. — 

Exit Lord, in the Barge of Lysimachus. 

Hel. Sure all's effectless ; yet nothing we'll omit 

That bears recovery's name. But since your kind 

ness, 
We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you 

further, 
That for our gold we may provision have, 
Wherein we are not destitute for want, 
But weary for the staleness. 

Lys. ' O, sir, a courtesy, 

Which if we should deny, the most just God 
For every graff would send a caterpillar, 
And so inflict our province. 6 — Yet once more 
Let me entreat to know at large the cause 
Of vour king's sorrow. 

Hel. Sit, sir, I will recount it ; — 

But see, I am prevented. 

Enter, from tiie Barge? Lord, Marisa, and a 

Young Lady. 
Lys. O, here is 

The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one ! 
Is't not a goodly presence ? 
Hel. A gallant lady. 

Lys. She's such, that were I well assur'd she came 
Of gentle kind, and noble stock, I'd wish 



No better choice, and think me rarely wed. 
Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty? 1 
Expect even here, where is a kingly patient * 
If that thy prosperous and artificial feat* 
Can draw him but to answer thee in aught, 
Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay 
As thy desires can wish. 

Mar. Sir, I will use 

My utmost skill in his recovery, 
Provided none but I and my companion 
Be suffer'd to come near him. 

Lys. Come, let us leave her. 

And the gods make her prosperous ! 

[Marina sings.'® 
Lys. Mark'd he your music ? 

Mar. No, nor look'd on us. 
Lys. See, she will speak to hisn. 

Mar. Hail, sir ! my lord, lend ear : 

Per. Rum ! ha ! 
Mar. I am a maid, 

My lord, that ne'fcr before invited eyes, 
But have been gaz'd on, like a comet: she speak?, 
My lord, that, mjy be, hath endur'd a grief 
Might equal yours, if feoth were justly weigh'd. 
Though wayward fortune did malign my state, 
My derivation was from ancestors 
Who stood equivalent with inighty kings :" 
But time hath rooted out my 'parentage, 
And to the world and Itrkwaw 9 casualitie3 
Bound me in servitude. — I will desist ; 
But there is something glows upoti my cheek, 
And whispers in mine ear, Go not till he speak. 

[Aside. 
Per. My fortunes — parentage — good parentage — 
To equal mine ? — was it not thus 7 vha*, sav you ? 
Mar. I said, my lord, if you did know my pa- 
rentage, 
You would not do me violence. n 

Per. I do thmk so. 

I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me.— - 
You are like something that — What countrywoman I 
Here of these shores ?'* 

Mar: No, nor of any shorts : 

Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am 
No other than I appear. 
Per. I am great with wo, and shall deliver 
weeping. 



I Few of the stage-directions, that have been given m 
this and the preceding acts, are found in the old copy. 
In the original it presentation Pericles was probably 
placed in the back part of the stage, concealed by a 
curtail), which was here drawn open. The ancient 
narratives represented him as remaining m the cabin 
of his ship ; but as in such a situation fericles would 
not be visible to the audience, a different stage-direction 
is now given. 

■2 The old copies read, ' one mortal wight.'' The 
emendation is Malone's. Mortal is here used for 
dearth/, destructive. 

3 This circumstance resembles another in All's Well 
that Ends Well, where Lafeu gives an account of He- 
lena's attractions to the king before she is introduced to 
attempt his cure. 

•1 The old copy reads, ' defend parts,' Malone made 
the alteration, which he explains thus : i. e. ' his ears, 
which are to be assailed by Marina's melodious voice.' 
Stee.vens would read, 'deafen'd ports,' meaning ' the 
oppilated doors of hearing.' 

5 Steevcns prints this passage in the following man- 
ner: corrected and amended so as to run smooth no 
doubt, but with sufficient license : — 

' She all as happy as of all the fairest, 
Is with her fellow maidens now icit/iin.' 
Difficulties have been raised about this passage as it 
stands'; but surely it is as intelligible as many others 
in this play. ' Upon a leafy shelter,' which is the great 
stumbling-block, appears to mean 'Upon a spot which 
is sheltered.' 

6 There can be but little doubt that the poet wrote :— 

' And so afflict our province.' — 
We have no example of to inflict used by itself for to 
punish. 

7 It appears that when Fericles was originally per- 
formed the theatres were furnished with no such appa- 
ratus as, by any stretch of imagination, could be 
supposed to present either a sea or a ship ; and that the 
audience were contented to behold vessels sailing in 



and out of port in their mind's eye only. This licence 
befng once granted to the poet, the lord, in the instance 
now before us, walked off the stage-, and returned again 
in a few minutes, leading in Marina without any sen- 
sible impropriety ; and the present drama exhibited be- 
fore such Indulgent spectators was not more incommo- 
dious in the representation than any other would have 
been. See Malone's Historical Account of the English 
Stage. 

8 The quarto of 1609 reads :— 

' Fair on all goodness that consists in beauty,' Ste. 
The present circumstance puts us in mind of what 
passes between Helena and the King, in All's Well that 
Ends Well 

9 The old copy has 'artificial fate.'' The emenda- 
tion is by Dr. Percy. 

10 This song (like most of those that were sung in the 
old plays) has not been preserved. It may have been 
formed on the lines in the Gesta Romanonim. The 
reader desirous of consulting the Latin hexameters, or 
Twine's translation of them, may consult the Variorum 
Shakspeare. There was not merit enough in them to 
warrant their production in this abridged commentary, 

11 So in Othello :— 

' 1 fetch my birth 

From men of royal siege.' 

12 Jlickieard is adverse. So in King Henry VI., Part 
II.:— 

' And twice by awkward wind from England's bank 
Drove back again.' 

13 This seems to refer to a part of the story that is made 
no use of in the present scene. Thus in Twine's trans- 
lation : — ' Then Appolonius fell in rage, and forgetting 
all courtesie, &c. rose up sodainly and stroke the maid- 
en,' &c. Pericles however afterwards says — 

'Did'st thou not say, when I did push thee hack, 
(Which was when I perceiv'd thee,) that thou cam'st 
From good descending." 

14 This passage is strangely corrupt in the old copies :- 

' Per. I do think so, pray you turne your eyes upoa 



5?<CEKE I. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



389 



My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one 
My daughter might have been : ' my queen's square 

brows ; 
Her stature to an inch ; as wand-like straight ; 
As silver-voic'd ; her eyes as jewel-like, 
And eas'd as richly : in pace another Juno ; 
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them 

hungry, 
The more she gives them speech. — Where do you 
live ? 

Mar. Where I am but a stranger : from the deck 
You may discern the place. 

Per. Where were you bred ? 

And how achiev'd y<?u these endowments, which 
You make more rich to owe ? 2 

Mar. Should I tell my history, 

S T would seem like lies disdain'd in the reporting. 

Per. Pr'ythee, speak ; 
Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou look'st 
Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace 
For the crown'd 3 truth to dwell in : I'll believe thee ; 
And make my senses credit thy relation. 
To points that seem impossible ; for thou look'st 
Like one I lov'd indeed. What were thy friends ? 
Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back, 
(Which was when I perceiv'd thee, ) that thou cam'st 
From good descending ? 

Mar. So indeed I did. 

Per. Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st 
Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury, 
And that thou thought's! thy griefs might equal mine, 
If both were operi'd. 

Mar* Some such thing indeed 

I said, and said no more but what my thoughts 
Did warrant me was likely. 

Per. Tell thy story ; 

If thirte consider'd prove the thousandth part 
Of my endurance, thou art a mau, and I 
Have suffer'd like a girl : yet thou dost look 
Like Patience, gazing on kings' graves, and smiling 
Extremity out of act.* What were thy friends? 
How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind 

virgin ? 
Recount, I do beseech thee ; come, sit by me. 

Mar. My name, sir, is Marina. 

Per. O, I am mock'd, 

And thou by some incensed god sent hither 
To make the world laugh at me. 

Mar. Patience, goo sir, 

Or here I'll cease. 

Per. Nay, I'll be patient ; 

Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me, 
To call thyself Marina. 

Mar. The name Marina 

Was given me by one that had some power ; 
My father, and a king. 

Per. How ! a king's daughter ? 

And call'd Marina ? < 

Mar. You said you would believe me ; 



ime, your like something that, what country women 
heare of these shewes,' &c. 

' Mar. Nor of any shevves, 1 8r,e. 
For the ingenious emendation, shores instead of sheices, 
as well as the regulation of the whole passage, Maloue 
■confesses his obligation to the earl of Charlemont. 

1 So Dsmones, in the Rudens of Plautus, exclaims, 
en beholding his long lost child : — 

' O filia 
Mea ! cum ego banc video, mearunruie absens miseria- 

rum commoner. 
Trima qua; periit mihi : jam, tanta esset, si vivit, scio.'' 

2 L e. possess. The meaning of the compliment is : — 
These endowments, however valuable in themselves, 
are heightened by being in your possession : they acquire 
additional grace from their owner. One of Timon's 
flatterers says, 

' You mend the jewel by wearing of it.' 
S Shakspeare, when he means to represent any quali- 
ty of the mind, &e. as eminently perfect, furnishes the 
fjersonification with a crown. See the 37th and 144th 
Sonnets. So in RooTCO and Juliet : — 

' Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit ; 

For 'tis a throne, where honour may be crowned 

€ole monarch of the universal eartlL' 



But, not to be a troubler of your peace, 
I will end here. 

Per. But are you flesh and blood ? 

Have you a working pulse ? and are no fairy ? 
No motion ? s Well ; speak on. Where were you 

born? 
And wherefore call'd Marina ? 

Mar. Call'd Marina, 

For I was born at sea. 

Pet. At sea ? thy mother ? 

Mar. My mother was the daughter of a king ; 
Who died the very minute I was born, 
As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft 
Deliver'd weeping. 

Per. O, stop there a little ! 

This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep 
Did mock sad fools withal : this cannot be. 
My daughter's buried. [Aside.] Well: — where 

were you bred ? 
I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story, 
And never interrupt you. 

Mar. You'll scarce believe me ; 'twere best I did 
give o'er. 

Per. I will believe you by the syllable 
Of what you shall deliver. 6 Yet, give me leaver- 
How came you in these parts ? where were you 
bred ? ' 

Mar. The king, my father, did in Tharsus leave 
me ; 
Till cruel Cieon, with his wicked wife, 
Did seek to murder me : and having woo'd 
A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't, 
A crew of pirates came and rescued me ; 
Brought me to Mitylene. But now, good sir, 
Whither will you have me ? Why do you weep ? It 

may be, 
You think me an impostor ; no, good faith ; 
I am the daughter to king Pericles, 
If good king Pericles be. 

Per. Ho, HelicanusJ 

Hel. Calls my gracious lord? 

Per. Thou art a grave and noble counsellor, 
Most wise in general: Tell me, if thou canst, 
What this maid is, or what is like to be, 
That thus hath made me weep ? 

Hel. I know not ; but 

Here is the regent, sir, of Mitylene, 
Speaks nobly of her. 

Lys. She would never tell 

Her parentage ; being demanded that, 
She would sit still and weep. 

Per. O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir ; 
Give me a gash, put me to present pain ; 
Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me, 
O'erbear the shores of my mortality, 
And drown me with their sweetness. O, come 

hither, 
Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget ; 
Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tharsus, 
And found at sea again ! O Helicanus, 
Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods, as loud 
As thunder threatens us ; This is Marina. — 
What was thy mother's name ? tell me but that, 



4 'By her beauty and patient meekness disarming 
Calamity, and preventing her from using her uplifted 
sword. Extremity (though not personified as here) is 
in like manner used for the utmost of human suffering 
in King Lear : — 

' . another, 

To amplify too much, would much more, 
And top extremity.'' 
So in Twelfth Night : — 

' She sat like Patience on a monument 
Smiling at Grief.' 

5 i. e. No puppet dressed up to deceive me. SoinThe 
Two Gentlemen of Verona: — 

' O, excellent motion ! O, exceeding puppet !' 

6 That is, I will believe every the minutest part of 
what you say. So in All's Well that Ends Well : — 

'To the utmost syllable of your worthiness ' 
And in Macbeth : — 

' To the last syllable of recorded tims 



390 



PERICLES. PRINCE OF I YRE. 



Act Y. 



For truth can never be confirm'd enough, 
Though doubts did ever sleep. 1 

Mar. First, sir, I pray, 

What is your title ? 

Per. I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now 
My drown'd queen's name, (as in the. rest thou hast 
Been godlike perfect,) thou'rt the heir of kingdoms, 
And another life to Pericles thy father. 2 

Mar. Is it no more to be your daughter, than 
To say, my mother's name was Thaisa? 
Thaisa was my mother, who did end, 
The minute I began.' 

Per. Now, blessing on thee, rise ; thou art my 
child. 
Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus, 
(Not dead at Tharsus, as she should have been, 
By savage Cleon,) she shall tell thee all ; 
When thou shalt kneel and justfy in knowledge, 
She is thy very princess. — Who is this ? 

Hel. Sir, 'tis the governor of Mitylene, 
Who, hearing of your melancholy state, 
Did come to see you. 

Per. I embrace you, sir. 

Give me my robes ; I a.n wild in my beholding. 
O heavens bless my girl ! But hark, what music ? — 
Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him 
O'er point by point, for yet he seems to doubt, 
How sure you are my daughter. — But what music ? 

Hel. My lord, I hear none. 

Per. None ? 
The music of the spheres: list, my Marina. 

Lys. It is not good to cross him ; give him way. 

Per. Rarest sounds ! 
Do ye not hear ? 

Lys. Music? My lord, I hear — 

Per. Most heavenly music : 
It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber 
Hangs on mine eyelids ; let me rest. [He sleeps. 

Lys. A pillow for his head ; 

[The Curtain before the Pavilion of Pericles 
is closed. 
So leave him all. — Well, my companion-friends,* 
If this but answer to my just belief, 
I'll well remember you. 

[Exeunt Lysimachus, Helicanus, Ma- 
rina, and attendant Lady. 

SCENE II. TTie same. Pericles on the Deck 
asleep; Diana appearing to him as in a Vision.'' 
Dia. My temple stands in Ephesus ; hie thee 
thither, 

And do upon mine altar sacrifice. 

There, when my maiden priests axe met together, 

Before the people all, 

Reveal, how thou at sea didst lose thy wife ; 

To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call, 

And give them repetition to the life. 6 

Perform my bidding, or thou liv'st in wo : 



1 i. e. i;i plain language, 'though mulling ever hap- 
pened to awake a scruple or doubt concerning your vera- 
city.' 

'i This passage is very much corrupted in the old co- 
pies : in the last line we have, 'another like.' The 
emendation is founded upon that of Mason. Malone 
reads : — 

' Per. I am Pericles of Tyre : but tell me now 
My drown'd queen's name, (as in the rest you said 
Thou hast been godlike perfect,) the heir of kingdoms, 
And a mother like to Pericles thy father.' 
Mason's emendation is confirmed by what Pericles says 
m the preceding speech : — 

' O come hither 

Thou that begePst him that did thee beget.' 
S So in the Winter's Tale : — 

' Lady, 

Dear queen, that ended when I but began, 
Give me that hand of yours to kiss.' 
4 Malone would give these lines to Marina, reading — 

' Well, my companion- friend.'' 

Observing that a lady had entered with her, and Marina 
says, I will use my utmost skill in the recovery of 
Pericles, 

' provided 

That none but I and my companion-maid 
£e suflev'd to come near him > 



Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow. 

Awake, and tell thy dream. [Diana disappear*. 

Per. Celestial Dian, goddess argentine, 7 
I will obey thee ! — Helicanus ! 
Enter Lysimachus, Helicanus, ana! Marina. 

Hel. Sir. 

Per. My purpose was for Tharsus, there to strike 
The inhospitable Cleon ; but I am 
For other service first : toward Ephesus 
Turn our blown 8 sails ; eftsoons I'll tell thee why.— 
[To Helicanus. 
Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, 
And give you gold for such provision 
As our intents will need ? 

Lys. With all my heart, sir ; and when you come 
ashore, 
I have another suit. 

Per. You shall prevail, 

Were it to woo my daughter ; for it seems 
You have been noble towards her. 

Lys. Sir, lend your arm. 

Per. Come, my Marina. [Exeunt. 

Enter Gower, before the Temple of Diana, at 
Ephesus. 
Gow. Now our sands are almost run ; 
More a little, and then done. 9 
This, as my last boon, give mc, 
(For such kindness must relieve mc,) 
That you aptly will suppose 
What pageantry, what feats, what shows, 
What minstrelsy, and pretty din, 
The regent made in IMitylin, 
To greet the king. So he has thriv'd, 
That he is promis'd to be wiv'd 
To fair 3Iarina ; but in no wise 
Till he 10 had done his sacrifice, 
As Dian bade: whereto being bound, 
The interim, pray you, all confound." 
In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, 
And wishes fall out as they're will'd. 
At Ephesus, the temple see, 
Our king, and ail his company. 
That he can hither come so «;oon 
Is by your fancy's thankful boon. [Exit 

SCENE III. The Temple o/Diana at Ephesus ; 
Thaisa standing near the Altar, as High Priest 
ess; a number of Virgins on each side ; Ceri 
mon and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending. 
Enter Pericles, with his Train; Lysimachus, 
Helicanus, Majuna, and a Lady. 

Per. Hail Dian ! to perform thy just command, 
I here confess myself the king of Tyre ; 
Who, frighted from my country, did wed 
The fair Thaisa, at Pentapolia. 
At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth 
A maid-child call'd Marina ; who, O goddess, 



Steevens contends for the text as it stanils, remarking 
that ' Lysimachus is much in love with Marina, and 
supposing himself to be near the gratification of hi* 
wishes, with a generosity common to noble natures on 
such occasions, is desirous to make his friends and 
companions partakers of his happiness.' 

5 This vision appears to be founded on a passage in 
Gower. 

6 In the old copy we have here like for life again. — 
The passage appears to mean : — ' Draw such a picture 
as shall prove itself to have been copied from real, not 
from pretended calamities ; such a one as shall strike 
the hearers with all the lustre of conspicuous truth.' 

7 i. e. regent of the silver moon. In the language of 
alchemy, which was well understood when this p)ay 
was written, Luna or Diana means silver, as Sol doea 
gold. 

S That is, 'our swollen sails.' So in Antony and 
Cleopatra : — 

' A vent upon her arm, and something blown.' 

9 The old copy reads dum. And in the last line o! 
this chorus doom instead of boon. 

10 i. e. Pericles. 

11 Confound here signifies to consume. 

» He did confound the best part of an hour, 
Exchanging hardiment with great Glendow'r.' 

Kmg flenru JZ . 



Scene III. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



391 



Wears yet thy silver livery.' She at Tharsus 
Was nurs'd with Cleon ; whom at fourteen years 
He sought to murder : but her better stars 
Brought her to Mitylene : against whose shore 
Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, 
Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she 
Made known herself my daughter. 

Thai. Voice and favour ! — 

You are — you are — O, royal Pericles! 2 — 

[She faints. 

Per. What means the woman? she dies, help, 
gentlemen ! 

Cer. Noble sir, 
If you have told Diana's altar true, 
This is your wife. 

Per. Reverend appearer, no ; 

I threw her overboard with these very arms. 

Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you. 

Per. 'Tis most certain. 

Cer. Look to the lady ; — O, she's but o'erjoy'd ! 
Early, one blust'ring morn, this lady was 
Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and 
Found there rich jewels ; recover'd her, and plac'd 

her 
Here in Diana's temple. 8 

Per. May we see them ? 

Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to my 
house,* 
Whither I invite you. Look ! Thaisa is 
Recover'd. 

Thai. O, let me look ! 
If he be none of mine, my sanctity 
Will to my sense 5 bend no licentious ear, 
But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, 
Are you not Pericles? Like him you speak, 
Like him you are : Did you not name a tempest, 
A birth, and death ? 

Per. The voice of dead Thaisa! 

Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead, 
And drown'd. 6 

Per. Immortal Dian ! 

Thai. Now I know you better. 

When we with tears parted Pentapolis, 
The king, my father, gave you such a ring. 

[Shows a Ring. 

Per. This, this ; no more, you gods ! your pre- 
sent kindness 
Makes my past miseries sport: 7 You shall do well, 
That on the touching of her lips I may 



1 i.e. her white robe of innocence, as being yet under 
the protection ofihe goddess of chastity. 

■2 The similitude between this scene and the dis- 
covery in the last act of The Winter's Tale, will strike 
every reader. 

In the fragment of the Old Metrical Romance, for- 
merly in Dr. Farmer's possession, mentioned in the 
Preliminary Remarks, this is told with simplicity and 
jmthos. I lay it before the reader as a philological cu- 
Siosity : — 

' The whiles he expounede thus hys lyf 

W' sorwe &. stedfast thouzt, 

He tolde hit to hys owene wyf, 

Sche knew him [though] he hire nought, 

Heo caught hym in hire armes two, 

For joye sche ne myght spek a word, 

The kyng was wroth & pitte her fro ; 

Heo cryede loude — 'ye beth my lord, 

I am youre wyf, youre leof yore, 

Archistrata ye lovede so, 

The kynges doughtry was bore,. 

Arehistrat&s he ne hadde na mo.' 

Heo clipte hym & eft'* * * kysse 

And saJda thus by fore hem alle 

Ze seeth Appolyn the kyng 

My maystt that taugt me all my good' 

Cetera desunt. 

3 The same situation occurs again in the Comedy of 
irrors, where .Kgeon loses his wife at sea, and finds 
ft«rstia8tui a nunnery. 

4 This circumstance hears some resemblance to the 
meeting of Lecntes and Hermione in The Winter's 
Tale. "The office of Cerimon is not unlike that of Pau- 
lina. 

5 Sense is here used for senstcal passion. 

6 Drown'd in this instance does not signify suffocated 
by water, but overwhelmed in it. Thus Knolles, His- 



Melt, and no more be seen. 8 O, come, be buried 
A second time within these arms. 

Mar. My heart 

Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. 

[Kneels to Thaisa. 

Per. Look, who kneels here ! Flesh of thy flesh, 
Thaisa ; 
Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina, 
For she was yielded there. 

Thai. Bless'd and mine own ! 

Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen ! 

Thai. I know you not. 

Per. You have heard me say, when I did fly 
from Tyre, 
I left behind an ancient substitute. 
Can you remember what I call'd the man? 
I have nam'd him oft. 

Thai. 'Twas Helicanus, then 

Per. Still confirmation : 
Embrace him, dear Thaisa : this is he. 
Now do I long to hear how you were found ; 
How possibly preserv'd ; and whom to thank, 
Besides the gods, for this great miracle. 

Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord ; this man 
Through whom the gods have shown their power , 

that can 
From first to last resolve you. 
1 Per. Reverend sir, 

The gods can have no mortal officer 
More like a god than you. Will you deliver 
How this dead queen relives ? 

Cer. I will, my lord. 

Beseech you, first go with me to my house. 
Where shall be shown you all was found with her ; 
How she came placed here within the temple ; 
No needful thing omitted. 

Per. Pure Diana ! 

I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer 
My night oblations to thee. Thaisa, 
This prince, the fair-betrothed 9 of your daughter, 
Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, 
This ornament that makes me look so dismal, 
Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form ; 
And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, 
To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify. 10 

Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, 
Sir, that my father's dead. 1 ■ 



tory of the Turks: — ' Galleys might be drowned in the 
harbour with the great ordhance, before they could ba 
rigged.' 
7 So in King Lear: — 

' It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt.' 
9 This is a sentiment which Shakspeare never fails 
to introduce on occasions similar to the present. So in 
the 39th Psalm :— ' O spare me a little, that I may re- 
cover my strength before I go hence, and be no more 
seen.' 1 The same thought is expressed by Perdita, in 
the Winter's Tale :— 

' Not like a corse ; — or if— not to be buried 
But quick, and in mine arms.' 
9 i. e. fairly contracted, honourably affianced. 
10 The author has here followed Gower, or the Gesta 
Romanorum : — 

< this a vowe to God I make 

That I shall never for hir sake, 
My berdefor no likynge shave, 
Till it befalle that I have 
In convenable time of age 
Besette her unto marriages 
The poet has, however, been guilty of a slight inadver- 
tency. If Pericles made the vow almost immediately 
after the birth of Marina, it was hardly necessary for 
him to make it again, as he has done, when he arrived 

' 11 In the fragment of the Old Metrical Romance, the 

father dies in his daughter's arms. 

' Zitt was hys fader-in-lawe a ly ve 
Archistrates the goud kyng, 
Folk come ageynes hym so blyve 
As eny mysht by oth r ihyng ; 
They song daunsede & were blythe, 
That ever he tnyghte that day yseo, 
And thonked God a thousand sythe, 
The kynge was gladdest ever be ye. 



392 



KING LEAR. 



Per. Heavens make a star of him! 1 Yet there, 

my queen, 
We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves 
Will in that kingdom spend our following days ; 
Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. 
Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay, 
To hear the rest untold. — Sir, lead the way. 

[Exeunt. 
Enter Gower. 
Gow. In Antioch, 2 and his daughter, you have 
heard 
Of monstrous lust the due and just reward : 



Tho he saw hem alle by fore 
Hys dought' & hys sone in lawe, 
And hys dought 1 so fair y core, 
A kyngis wife heo was wel fawe, 
And her chyld iher also 
Al clehe of kyngis blod, 
He buste hem, ho wa9 glad tho 
But the okle kynge so goud. 
He made hem dvvelle that yer 
Jlnd deyde in hys dought" arm.'' 

1 This notion is borrowed from the ancients, who ex- 
pressed their mode of conferring divine honours and 
immortality on men, by placing them among the stars. 

2 i. e. the king of Antioch. The old copy reads Jin- 
tiochus. Steevens made the alteration, observing that 
in Shakspeare's other plays we have France for the 
king of France ; Marocco for the king of Morocco, Sic 



In Pericles, his queen ana daughter, seen 
(Although assail d with fortune fierce and keen,} 
Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast- 
Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last. 
In Helicanus may you well descry 
A figure oTtruth ? of faith, of loyalty: 
In reverend Cerimon there well appears, 
The worth that learned charity aye wears. 
For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame 
Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'* 

name 
Of Pericles, to rage the city turn ; 
That him and his they in his palace burn. 
The gods for murder seemed so content 
To punish them ; although not done, but meant. 
So on your patience evermore attending, 
New joy wait on you ! Here our play has ending. 
[Exit Goweji, 

THAT this tragedy has some merit, it were vain ta 
deny; but that it is the entire composition of Shak 
speare, is more than can be hastily grained. I shall nol 
venture with Dr. Farmer, to determine lhat the hand of 
our great poet is only visible in the last act: for I think: 
it appears in several passages dispersed over each of 
these divisions. I find it difficult, however, to persuade 
myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, OJ 
the author of every dialogue, chorus, &c. 

STEEVENS. 



KING LEAR. 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 



THE story of King Lear and his three daughters was 
originally told Dy Geffrey of Monmouth, from 
whom HoUnsned transcribed it; and in his Chronicle 
Shakspeare had certainly read it : but he seems to have 
t>een more indebted to the old anonymous play, enti- 
tled The True Chronicle Hystorie of Leire. King of 
England, and his Three Daughters Gonorill, Ragan,, 
and Cordelia, 1605. A play with that title was entered 
on the Stationers' books by Edward White, May 14, 
1594 ; ami there are two other entries of the same piece, 
May 9, 1605 ; and Nov. 26, 1607. From the Mirror of 
Magistrates, Shakspeare has taken the hint foT the be 
haviour of the Steward, and the reply of Cordelia to 
her father, concerning her future marriage. The Epi- 
sode of Gloucester and his sons must have been bor- 
rowed from Sidney's Arcadia, no trace of it bciiiL' limrid 
in the other sources of the fable. The reader will also 
find the story of King Lear in the second book and 
tenth canto «f Spenser's Faerie Queene, and in the fif- 
teenth chapter of the third book of Warner's Albion's 
England. Camden, in his Remaines, under the head 
of Wise Speeches, tells a similar story to this of Lear, 
of Ina, King of the West Saxons ; which, if the thing 
ever happened, probably was the real origin of the fa- 
ble. The story has found its way into many ballads 
. and other metrical pieces ; one ballad will be found in 
Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. 
i. 3d edit. The story is also to be found in the unpub- 
lished Gesta Romanornin, and in the Romance of 
Perccforest. The whole of this play could not have 
been written till after 1603. Harsnet's Declaration of 
Popish Impostures, to which it contains so many re- 
ferences, and from which the fantastic names of several 
spirits are borrowed, was not published till that year. 
It must have been produced before the Christmas of 
1606 ; for in the entry of Lear on the Stationers' Re- 
gister, on the 26th of November, 1607, it is expressly 
recorded to have been played, during the preceding 
Christmas, before his majesty at Whitehall. Malone 
places the date of the composition in 1605; Dr. Drake 
in 1604. 

'Of this noble tragedy, one of the first productions 
of the noblest of poets, it is scarcely possible to express' 
our admiration in adequate terms. Whether considered 
as an effort of art, or as a picture of the passions, it is 
entitled to the highest praise The two portions of 
which the fable consist?, involving the late of Lear and 
lis daughters, and of Gloster and his sons, influence 



each other in so many points, and are blended with 
such consummate skill, that whilst the imagination ia 
delighted by diversity of circumstances, the judgment 
is equally gratified in viewing their mutual co-opera- 
tion towards the final result ; the coalescence being so 
, as nol only to preserve the necessary unity 
pf action, but to constitute one of the greatest beauties 
of the piece. 

' Such, indeed, is the interest excited by the struc- 
ture and concatenation of the story, that the attention 
is not once suffered to flag. By a rapid succession of 
incidents, by sudden and overwhelming vicissitudes, by 
the most awful instances of misery and destitution, 
by the boldest contrariety of characters, are curi- 
osity and anxiety kept progressively increasing, and 
with an impetus so strong as nearly to absorb every fa- 
culty of the mind and every feeling of the heart. 

' Victims of frailty, of calamity, or of vice, in an age 
remote and barbarous, .the actors in this drama are 
brought forward with a strength of colouring which, had 
the scene been placed in a more civilized era, might 
have been justly deemed too dark and ferocious ; hut id 
not -discordant with the earliest heathen age of Britain. 
The effect of this style of characterisation is felt occa- 
sionally throughout the entire play ; but it is particu- 
larly visible in the delineation of the vicious personages 
of the drama, the parts of Goneril, Regan, Edmund, 
and Cornwall, being loaded not only with ingratitude 
of the deepest dye, but with cruelty of the most savage 
and diabolical nature ; they are the criminals, in fact, of 
an age where vice may be supposed to reign with law 
less and gigantic power, and in which the extrusion of 
Gloster's eyes might be such an event as not unfre- 
quently occurred. Had this mode of casting his cha- 
racters in the extreme been applied to the remainder of 
the dramatis persona, we should have lost some of 
the finest lessons of humanity and wisdom that ever is- 
sued from the pen of an tininspired writer ; hut with the 
exception of a few coarsenesses, which remind us of 
the barbarous period to which the story is referred, and 
of a few incidents rather revolting to credibility, but 
which could not he detached from the original narrative, 
the virtuous agents of the play exhibit the manners and 
the feelings of civilization, and are of that mixed fabric 
which can alone display a just portraiture of the natura 
and composition of our species. 

'The characters of Cordelia and Edgar, it is true, 
approach nearly to perfection; but the filial virtues aj 



Scene I. 



KING LEAR. 



S93 



the former are combined with such exquisite tender- 
ness of heart, and those of the latter with such bitter 
humM.ation and suffering, that grief, indignation, and 
pity are instantly excited. Very striking representa- 
tions are also given of the rough fidelity of Kent, and 
of the hasty credulity of Gloster ; but it is in delineating 
the passions, feelings, and afflictions of Lear that our 
poet has wrought up a picture of human misery which 
has never been surpassed, and which agitates the soul 
■with the most overpowering emotions of sympathy and 
compassion. 

' The conduct of the. unhappy monarch having heen 
founded merely on the impulses of sensibility, and not 
on any fixed principle or rule of action, no sooner has 
he discovered the baseness of those on whom he had 
relied, and '.he fatal mistake into which he had been 
hurried by the delusions of inordinate fondness and ex- 
travagant expectation, than he feels himself bereft of 
all consolation and resource. Those to whom he had 
given all, for whom he had stripped himself of dignity 
and power, and on whom he had centred every hope 
of comfort and repose in his old age, his inhuman 
daughters, having not only treated him with utter cold- 
ness and contempt, but sought to deprive him of all the 
respectability, and even of the very means of existence, 
what, in a mind so constituted as Lear's, the sport of in- 
tense and ill regulated feeling, and tortured by the re- 
flection of having deserted the only child who loved 
him, what but madness could be expected as the re- 
sult ? It was, in fact, the necessary consequence of 
the reciprocal action of complicated distress and morbid 
sensibility; and in describing the approach of this dread- 
ful infliction, in tracing its progress, its height, and 
subsidence, our poet has displayed such an intimate 
knowledge of the workings ol the human intellect, 
under all its aberrations, as would afford an admirable 
study for the inquirer Into mental physiology. He has 
also in this play, as in that of Hamlet, finely discrimi- 
nated between real and assumed insanity. Edgar, 
amidst all the wild imagery which his imagination has 
accumulated, never touching on the true source of his 
misery, whilst Lear, on the contrary, finds it associated 
with every object and every thought, however distant 
or dissimilar. Not even the Orestes of Euripides, or 
the Clementina of Richardson, can, as pictures of dis- 
ordered reason, be placed in competition with this of 
Lear ; it may be pronounced, indeed, from its truth and 
completeness, beyond the reach of rivalry.'* 

An anonymous writer, who has instituted a compari- 
son between the Lear of Shakspeare and the CEdipus 
of Sophocles, and justly given the palm to the former, 
closes his essay with the following sentence, to which 
every reader of taste and feeling will subscribe : — 
' There is no detached character in Shakspeare's writ- 
ings which displays so vividly as this the hand and mind 
of a master ; which exhibits so great a variety of excel- 
lence, and such amazing powers of delineation ; so in- 
timate a knowledge of the human heart, with such ex- 



* Drake's Shakspeare and his Times, vol. ii. p. 460. 



act skill in tracing the progress and the effects of its 
more violent and more delicate passions. It is in the 
management of this character more especially that ha 
fills up that grand idea of a perfect poet, which we de- 
light to image to ourselves, but despair of seeing re- 
alised, 'f 

In the same work from whence this is extracted will 
be found an article, entitled ' Theatralia,' attributed to 
the pen of Mr. Charles Lamb, in which are the follow- 
ing striking animadversions on the liberty taken in 
changing the catastrophe of this tragedy in representa- 
tion. ' The Lear of Shakspeare cannot be acted. The 
contemptible machinery with which they mimic the 
storm he goes out in, is not more inadequate to repre- 
sent the horrors of the real elements, than any actor 
can be to represent Lear. The greatness of Lear i3 
not in corporal dimension, but in intellectual : the ex- 
plosions of his passions are terrible as a volcano ; they 
are storms turning up and disclosing to the bottom that 
rich sea, his mind, with all its vast riches : it is his 
mind which is laid bare. This case of flesh and blood 
seems too insignificant to be thought on ; even as he 
himself neglects it. On the stage we see nothing but 
corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence of 
age ; while we read it we see not Lear, but we are 
Lear; — we are in his mind ; we .are sustained by a 
grandeur, which baffles the malice of his daughters 
and storms ; in the aberrations of his reason, we dis 
cover a mighty irregular power of reasoning, unme- 
thodised from the ordinary purposes of life, but exert 
ing its powers, as the wind blows where it listeth, at 
will on the corruptions and abuses of mankind, What 
have looks or tones to do with that sublime identifica 
tion of his age with that of the, heavens themselves, 
when, in his reproaches to them for conniving at the 
injustice of his children, he reminds them that ' they 
themselves are old 1" What gesture shall we appro 
priate to this ? What has voice or the eye to do with 
such things ? But the play is beyond all art, as the 
tamperings with it show ; it is too hard and stony ', it 
must have love-scenes, and a happy ending. It is not 
enough that Cordelia is a daughter, she must shine as 
a lover too. Fate has put his hook in the nostrils of 
this Leviathan, for Garrick and his followers, the 
showmen of the scene, to draw it about more easily. 
A happy ending !— as if the living martyrdom that Lear 
had gone through, the flaying of his feelings alive, did 
not make a fair dismissal from the stage of life the only- 
decorous thing for him. If he is to live and be happy 
after, if he could sustain this world's burden after, why 
all this pudder and preparation— why torment us with 
all this unnecessary sympathy ? As if the childish 
pleasure of getting his gilt robes and sceptre again, 
could tempt him to act over again his misused station, — 
■as if at his years, and with his experience, any thing 
was left but to die.' 



t The Reflector, vol. ii. p. 139, on Greek and Eng- 
lish Tragedy. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



Lear, King of Britain. 

King o/~France. 

Duke of Burgundy. 

Duke o/Cornwall. 

Duke of Albany. 

Earl o/Kent. 

Earl o/Gloster. 

Edgar, Son to Gloster. 

Edmund, Bastard Son to Gloster, * 

Curan, a Courtier. 

Old Man, Tenant to Gloster. 

Physician. Fool. 



Oswald, Steward to Goneril. 

An Officer, employed by Edmund. 

Gentleman, Attendant on Cordelia. 

A Herald. 

Servants to Cornwall. 

Goneril, 

Regaj 

CORDEI 

Knights attending on the King, Officers, Messengers, 

Soldiers, and Attendants. 

SCENE— Britain. 



SRIL, ) 

in, s n 

3ELIA, ) 



aughters to Lear. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. A Room of State in King Lear's 

Palace. Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmund. 

Kent. 

1 thought the king had more affected the duke of 

Albany, than Cornwall. 



1 There is something of obscurity or inaccuracy in 
this preparatory scene. The king has already divided 
his kingdom, anil yet when he enters, he examines his 
daughters to discover in what proportions he should di- 
vide it. Perhaps Kent and Gloster only were privy to 

2 Z 



Glo. It did always seem so to us : but now, in 
the division of the kingdom, 1 it appears not which 
of the dukes he values most ; for equalities are so 
weigh'd, that curiosity 2 in neither can make choice 
of either's moiety. 3 

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord ? 



his design, which he still kept in his own hands, to be 
changed or performed as subsequent reasons should de- 
termine him. — Johnson. 

2 Curiosity is scrupulous exactness, finical precision, 

3 Moiety is used by Shakspeare for pan or portion. 



394 



KING LEAR. 



Act I. 



Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge : 
I have so often blush'd to acKnowledge him, that 
How I am brazed to it. 

Kent. I cannot conceive you. 

Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could : 
whereupon she grew round-wombed ; and had, in- 
deed, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a hus- 
band for her bed. Do you smell a fault ? 

Kent, I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue 
or it being so proper. 1 

Glo. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some 
year 2 elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my 
account : though this knave came somewhat saucily 
into the world before he was sent for, yet was his 
mother fair ; there was good sport at his making, 
and the whoreson must be acknowledged. — Do you 
know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? 

Edm. No, my lord. 

Glo. My lord of Kent : remember him hereafter 
as my honourable friend. 

Earn. My services to your lordship. 

Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you 
better. 

Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. 

Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he 
shall again : — The king is coming. 

[Trumpets sound vitltin. 

Enter Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, 
Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants. 
Lear. Attend the lords of Franco and Burgundy, 
Gloster. 

Glo. I shall, mv liege. 

[Exeunt Gloster, cmd Bdmuwd. 
Lear. Mean time we shall express our darker 3 
purpose. 
Give me the map there. — Know, that we have 

divided, 
In three, our kingdom : and 'tis our fast intent* 
To shake all cares and business from our a<;e ; 
Conferring 5 them on younger strengths, while we 
Unburden'd crawl toward death. — Our son of Corn- 
wall, 
And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 
We have this hour a constant will 6 to publish 
Otw daughters, several dowers, that futon- strife 
May be prevented now. The princes, France and 

Burgundy, 
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, 
Long in our court have made 1 1 >< ■ i r amorous sojourn, 
And here are to be answer'd. — Tell me, my 

daughters 
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule, 
Intrrest of territory, cares of state,") 
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most ? 
That we our largest bounty may extend 



1 Proper is comely, band 

2 i.e. ' about a yew elder.* 

3 ' We shall express our darker purpose ;' that is. 
■ we have already made known our desire ofpartingthe 
kingdom ; we will now discover what has not been told 
befere, the reasons by which we shall regulate the par- 
tition.' This interpretation will justify or palliate the 
exordial dialogue.— Jbhnaon. 

4 i. e. our determined resolution. The quartos read, 
'first intent. 

5 The quartos read, confirming. 

6 Cousin/it will, which is a confirmation of the read- 
in? 'fast intent,' means a firm, determined will : K 
is the certa voluntas of Virgil The lines from while 
ue to prevented note are omitted in the quartos. 

7 The two lines in a parenthesis are omitted in the 
quartos. 

8 ' Beyond all assignable quantity. I love you beyond 
limits, and cannot say it is so much ; for how much so- 
ever I should name, it would yet be more.' Thus Rowe, 
in his Fair Penitent, Sc. 1 : — 

' — : I can only 

Swear you reign here, but never tell hoir> much." 1 

9 i. e. enriched^ So Drant in his translation of Ho- 
race's Epistles, 1567: — 

' To rilch his country, let his words lyke flowing water 
fall.' 

10 That is, ' estimate me at her value, my love has at 
least equal claim to your favour. Only she comes short 
(fme in this, that I profess myself an enemy to all other 



Where merit doth most challenge it. — Goneril, 
Our eldest-born, speak first. 

Gon. Sir, I 

Do lqve you more than words can wield the matter 
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty ; 
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ; 
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour : 
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found. 
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable : 
Beyond all manner of so much I love you." 

Cor. What shall Cordelia do ? Love, and be 
silent. [Aside. 

Lear. Of all -these bounds, even from this line to 
this, 
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, 9 
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 
We make thee lady : To thine and Albany's issue 
Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter, 
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall ? Speak. 

Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister,. 
And prize me at her worth. 10 In my true heart 
I find, she names my very deed of love ; 
Only she comes too short, — that I profess 
Myself an enemy to all other joys;, 
Which the most precious square of sense possesses ; 
And find I am alone felicitate 
In your dear highness' love. 

Cor. Then poor Cordelia ! [Aside. 

And yet not so ; since, I am sure, my love's 
More richer than mv tongue. 

Leai . To thee, and thine, hereditary ever, 
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom ; 
No less ia space, validity, 1 ' and pleasure, 
Than that oonferr'd 13 on Goneril. — Now, our joy, 
^Jthough the last, not least ; to whose young love 
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, 
Strive to be interess'd : 13 what can you say, to 

draw 
A third mere opulent than your sisters ? Speak. 

Cor. Nothing, my lord. 

Lear. Nothing ? 
' Cor. Nothing. 

Ijcar. Nothing can come of nothing : speak again. 

Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 
My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty 
Accordins to my bond ; nor more, nor less. 

Lear. How, how, Cordelia ? mend your speech 
a little, 
Lest it may mar your fortunes. 

Cor. Good my lord, 

You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me : I 
Return those duties back as are right fit, 
Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say, 
They love you, all ? Haply, when I shall wed, 
That lord, whose hand must take my plight,, shal 

carry 
Half my love with him, half my care, and duty :'* 



joys which the most precious aggregation of sense can 
bestow.' Square is here used for the whole complement! 
as circle is now sometimes used. 

11 Validity is several times used to signify worth, 
riihn s, by Snakspeare. It does not, however, appear 
to have been peculiar to him in this sense. 'The. 
countenance of your friend is of less value than his 
council, yet both of very small validity.' — The Devil's 
Charter, 1607. 

13 The folio reads conferred; the quartos, confirm'/}. 
So in a former passage we have in the quartos con- 
firming for conjerring. ' To confirm on a person is 
"certainly not English now (says Mr. Boswell ;) but it 
does not follow that such was the case in Shakspeare's 
time. The original meaning of the word to establish 
would easily bear such a construction.' 

13 To interest and to inleresse are not, perhaps, dif 
ferent spellings of the same verb, but two distinct words, 
though of the"same import ; the one being derived from 
the Latin, the other from the French interesser. 
We have interess'd in Ben Jonson's Sejanus : — 

' Our sacred laws and just authority 

Are i?iteress'd therein.' 
Drayton also uses the wordin the Preface to his Polyol 
Won. 

14 So in the Mirror for Magistrates. 1537, Cordelia 
says--- 



Scene I. 



KING LEAR. 



395 



Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, 
To lave my father all. 
Lear. But goes this with thy heart ? 
Cor. Ay, good my lord. 

Lear. So young, and so untender ? 
Cor. So young, my lord, and true. 
Lear. Let it be so, — Thy truth then be thy dower : 
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun , 
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; 
By all the operations of the orbs, 
From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; 
Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 
Propinquity and property of blood, 
And as a stranger to my heart and me 
Hold thee, from this, 1 for ever. The barbarous 

Scythian, 
Or he that makes his generation 2 messes 
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, 
As thou my sometime daughter. 

Kent. Good my liege, 

Lear. Peace, Kent ! 
Come not between the dragon and his wrath : 
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest 
On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my sight ! 
[To Cordelia. 
So be my grave my peace, as here I give 
Her father's heart from her! — Call France ; — Who 

stirs ? 
Call Burgundy. — Cornwall, and Albany, 
With my two daughters' dowers digest fhis third : 
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
I do invest you jointly with my power, 
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects 
That troop with majesty. — Ourself, by monthly 

course, 
With reservation of a hundred knights, 
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode 
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain 
The name, and all the additions 3 to a king ; 
The sway, 

Revenue, execution of the rest,* 
Beloved sons, be yours : which to confirm, 
This coronet part between you. [Giving the Crown. 

Kent. Royal Lear, 

Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, 
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, 

As my great patron thought on in my prayers,* 

Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the 

shaft. 
Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 
The region of my heart : be Kent unmannerly, 
When Lear is mad. What would'st thou do, old 

man ? 
Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, 
When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honour's 
bound, 



' Nature so doth bind rri e, and compel 

To love you as I ought, my father, well ; 
Yet shortly may I chance, if fortune will, 
To find in heart to bear another more good will : 
Thus much I said of nuptial loves that meant.' 

1 i. e. from this time. 

2 His children. 

3 ' All the titles belonging to a king.' * 

4 By ' the execution of the rest,' all the other functions 
of the kingly office are probably meant. 

5 The allusion is probably to the custom of clergymen 
praying for their patrons in what is called the bidding 
prayer. 

6 The folio reads, 'reserve thy state;' and has 
stoops instead of 'falls to folly.' The meaning of 
answer my life my judgment, is, Let my life be answer- 
able fur my judgment, or I will stake my life on my 
opinion. 

1 This is perhaps a word of the poet's own, meaning 
the same as reverberates. 

8 That is, ' I never regarded my life as my own, but 
merely as a thing of which I had the possession, and 
not the property ; and which was entrusted to me as a 
pawnor pledge, To be employed in waging war against 
your enemies.' ' To wage,'' says Bullokar, 'to under- 
take, or give security for performance of any thing.' 

The expression to wage against is used in a letter 
from Guil. Webbe to Root. Wilinot, prefixed to Tan- 



When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom ;• 
And, in thy best consideration, check 
This hideous rashness : answer my life my judg- 
ment, 
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ; 
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound 
Reverbs' no hollowness. 

Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more. 

Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn 
To wage against thine enemies, 8 nor fear to lose it, 
Thy safety being the motive. 
Lear. Out of my sight! 

Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain 
The true blank 9 of thine eye. 

Lear. Now, by Apollo, 

Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, 

Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. 
Lear. O, vassal ! miscreant ! 

[Laying his Hand on his Sword, 
Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear. 
Kent. Do; 
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow 
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift 
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, 
I'll tell thee, thou dost evil. 

Lear. Hear me, recreant ? 

On thine allegiance, hear me ! — 
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, 
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with stram'd 

pride, 
To come betwixt our sentence and our power, 
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear;) 
Our potency made 10 good, take thy reward. 
Five days we do allot thee, for provision 
To shield thee from diseases 1 ' of the world ; 
And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back 
Upon our kingdom : if, on the tenth day following, 
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, 
The moment is thy death. Away ! By Jupiter, 
This shall not be revok'd. 

Kent. Fare thee well, king : since thus thou wilt 
appear, 
Freedom 12 lives hence, and banishment is here. 
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 

[To Cordelia 
That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said ! — 
And your large speeches, may your deeds approve, 
[To Regan and Goneril. 
That good effects may spring from words of love.— 
Thus Kent, O, princes, bids you all adieu ; 
He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. 
Re-enter Geoster ; with France, Burgundy, 
and Attendants. 
Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. 
Lear. My lord of Burgundy, 
We first address towards you, who with this king 
Hath rivall'd for our daughter ; What, in the least, 



credandGismund, 1592:— 'You shall not be able to wage 
against me in the charges growing upon this action.' 
George Wither, in his verses before the Polyolbion, 
says : — 

' Good speed befall thee who hath wag^d a task 
That better censures and rewards doth ask.' 
9 The blank is the mark at which met) shoot. ' See 
better,' says Kent, 'and let me be the mark to direct 
your sight, that you err not.' 

10 ' As you have with unreasonable pride come be- 
tween our sentence and our power to execute it : that 
power shall be made good by rewarding thy contumacy 
with a sentence of banishment.' In Othello we nave 
nearly the same language : — 

' My spirit and my place have in them power 
To make this better to thee.' 
One of the quartos reads, ' make good.' 

11 Thus the quartos. The folio reads, disasters. By 
the diseases of the world are meant, the uneasinesses, 
inconveniences, and slighter troubles ordistresses of the 
world. So in King Henry VI. Part 1. Act ii. Sc. 5 : - 

' And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease.'' 
The provision that Kent could make in five days 
might in some measure guard against such diseases 
of the world but could not shield him from its disas 
ters. 

12 The quartos read, '■Friendship.' 1 And in the next 
line, instead of ' dear shelter,' 'protection ' 



896 



KING LEAR. 



Act I. 



Will you require in present dower with her, 
Or cease your quest of love ?' 

Bur. ' Most royal majesty, 

I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd, 
Nor will you tender less. 

Lear. Right noble Burgundy, 

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so ; 
But now her price is fall'n : Sir, there she stands ; 
If aught within that little, seeming 2 substance, 
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, 
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, 
She's there, and she is yours. 

Bur. I know no answer. 

Lear. Sir, 
Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 3 
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, 
Dower' d with our curse,and stranger'd with our oath, 
Take her, or leave her ? 

Bur. Pardon me, royal sir ; 

Election makes not up 4 on such conditions. 

Lear. Then leave her, sir ; for, by the power that 
made me, 
I tell you al! her wealth. — For you, great king, 

[To France. 
I would not from your love make such a stray, 
To match you where I hate ; therefore beseech you 
To avert your liking a more worthier way, 
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd 
Almost to acknowledge hers. 

France. This is most strange ! 

That she, that even but now was your best object, 
The :irgumeut of your praise, balm of your age, 
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time 
Corami; a thing so monstrous, to dismantle 
So many folds of favour! Sure, her otTence 
Must be of such unnatural degree, 
That monsters it, s or your fore-vouch'd afTection 
Fall into taint : s which to believe of her, 
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle 
Could never plant in me. 

Cor. I yt't beseech your majesty, 

(If for' I want that glib and oily art, 
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, 
I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known 
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, 
No unchaste 8 action, or dishonour'd step, 
That hath depriv'd me of your gram and favour : 
But even for want of that," for which I am richer ; 
A still-solicit ins eve, and such a tongue 
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it, 
Hath lost me in your liking. 

Lear. Better thou 

Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me 
better. 

France. Is it but this ? a tardiness in nature, 
Which often leaves the history unspoke, 



1 That is, 'your amorous pursuit.' A quest is a 
seeking or pursuit : the expedition in which, a knight 
was engaged is often so named in the Faerie Queen. 

2 Seeming here means specious. Thus in The 
Merry Wives of Windsor :—' Pluck the borrowed veil 
of modesty from the so seeming mistress Page.' 

3 i. e. owns, is possessed of. 

4 That is, ' Election is not accomplished upon such 
conditions,' I cannot decide rmake her upon such terms. 

5 ' Such unnatural degree 

T/icit monsters it.' 

In the phraseology of Shakspeare's age that and as 
were convertible words. So in Coriolanus : — 

' But with such words that are but rooted in 

Your tonsue.' 
See Julius Caisar, Act i. Sc. 2. The uncommon verb 
lo monster, occurs again in Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 2 : — 
' To hear my nothings monster , d.'' 

6 Her offence must be monstrous, or the former 
affection whieh you professed for her must fall into 
taint; that is, become the subject of reproach. Taint 
is here only an abbreviation of attaint. 

7 i. e. ' If cause I want,' &.C. 

8 The quartos read, ' no unclean action,' which in 
fact carries the same sense. 

9 i. e. with cautious and pruden tial considerations. — 
The folio has regards. The meaning of the passage is, 
that his love wants something to mark its sincerity, — 

' Who seeks for aught in love but love alone.' 



That it intends to do ? — My lord of Burgundy, 
What say you to the lady ? Love is not love, 
When it is mingled with respects, 9 that stand 
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? 
She is herself a dowry. 

Bur. Royal Lear, 

Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, 
And here I take Cordelia by the hand, 
Duchess of Burgundy. . 

Lear. Nothing : I have sworn : I am firm. 

Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father 
That you must lose a husband. 

Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! 

Since that respects of fortune are his love, 
I shall not be his wife. 

France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being 
poor ; 
Most choice, forsaken ; and most lov'd, despis'd ! 
Thee, and thy virtues here I seize upon : 
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away. 
Gods, gods ! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st 

neglect, 
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect. — 
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, 
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair Fiance : 
Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy 
Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.— 
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind : 
Thou loscsl here a -better where" 1 to find, [for we 

Lear. Thou hast her, France : let her be thine ; 
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see 
That face of hers again : — Therefore be gone, 
Without our grace, our love, our benizon. — 
Come, noble Burgundy. 

[Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Corn- 
wall, Albany, Glosteh, and Attendants. 

France. Bid farewell to your sisters. 

Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes 
Cordelia leaves you ; I know you what you are : 
And, like a sister, am most loath to call 
Your faults, as they are navn'd. Use well our father: 
To your professed" bosoms I commit him : 
But vet, alas ! stood I within his grace, 
I would prefer him to a better place. 
So farewell to you both. 

Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. 

Reg. Let your study 

Be, to content your lord ; who hath receiv'd you 
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, 
And well are worth the want that you have wanted." 

Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited' 3 cunning 
hides ; 
Who cover faults, 1 * at last shame them derides. 
Well may you prosper! 

10 Here and where have the power of nouns. 'Thou 
losest this residence, to find a better residence in another 
place.' So in Churchyard's Farewell to the World, 
1592 :— 

' That crowes not here, takes root in other where.'' 

11 AVe have here professed for professing. It has 
been elsewhere observed that Shakspeare often uses one 
participle for another. Thus in the Merchant of Ve- 
nice, Act iii. Sc. 2, we have railed lor railing ; in other 
places, delighted for delighting, &c. A remarkable in 
stance of the converse occurs in Antony an<l Cleopatra ; 
where we have all-obeyed for all-obeying. 

12 Thus the lolio. The quartos read : — 

' And well are worth the wbrth that you have wanted.' 
The meaning of the passage a< it pew stands in the 
text, is, ' You well deserve to want that dower, which 
you have lost bv having failed in your obedience.' So 
in King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv." Sc. 1 :—' Though 1 
want a kingdom ;' i. e. though I am without a kingdom. 

13 That is, complicated, intricate, involved, cunning. 

14 The quartos read : — 

' Who covers faults, at last shame them derides.' 
The folio has : — 

' Who covers faults, at last with shame derides. 
Mason proposed to read : — 

' Who covert faults, at last with shame derides.' 
The word w/io referring to Time. Jn the third act, 
Lear says : — 

' Caitiff, shake to pieces, 

That under covert and convenient seeming, 
Hast practis'd on man's life.* 



Scene II. 



KING LEAR. 



397 



France. Come, my fair Cordelia. 

[Exeunt France and Cordelia. 

Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say, of 
what most nearly appertains to us both. I think, 
our father will hence to-night. 

Reg, That's most certain, and with you ; next 
month with us. 

Gon. You see how full of changes his age is ; 
the observation we have made of it hath not been 
little : he always loved our sister most ; and with 
what poor judgment he hath now cast her off, ap- 
pears too grossly. 

iJe^. 'Tis the infirmity of his age : yet he hath 
ever but slenderly known himself. 

Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath 
been but rash ; then must we look to receive from 
his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engraft- 
ed condition, 1 but therewithal, the unruly way- 
wardness that infirm and choleric years bring with 
them. 

Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have 
from him, as this of Kent's banishment. 

Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking 
between France and him. 'Pray you, let us hit 
together : If our father carry authority with such 
dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his 
will but offend us. 

Reg. We shall further think of it. 

Gon. We must do something, and i' the heat. 2 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. A Hall in the Earl of Gloster's 
Castle. Enter Edmund, with a Letter. 

Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess ; 3 to thy law 
My services are bound ; Wherefore should I 
Stand in the plague 4 of custom ; and permit 
The curiosity 5 of nations to deprive 6 me, 
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 
Las of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base ? 
When my dimensions are as well compact, 
Mv mind as generous, and my shape as true, 
As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us 
With base? with baseness? bastardy ? base, base ? 
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
More composition and fierce quality, 
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, 
Got 'tween asleep and wake ? — Well, then, 
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land : 
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund, 
As to the legitimate : Fine word, — legitimate ! 
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, 
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 
Shall top the legitimate. I grow : I prosper : — 
Now, gods, stand up for bastards ! 
Enter Gloster. 

Glo. Kent banish'd thus ! And France in choler 
parted ! 
And the king gone to-night ! subscrib'd 7 his power ! 
Confin'd to exhibition ! d All this done 

Upon the gad! 9 Edmund! How now? what 

news? 



l.i. e temper; qualities of mind confirmed by long 
habit. Thus in Othello :— 

' A woman of so gentle a condition.'' 

2 We must strike while the iron's hot. 

3 Edmund calls nature hi.s goddess, for the same rea- 
son as we call a bastard a natural son: one who, ac- 
cording to the law of nature is the child of his father ; 
but, according to those of civil society, is nullus filius. 

4 ' Wherefore should I submit tamely to the plague 
(i. e. the evil, y or injustice of custom ?' 

5 The nicety of civil institutions, their strictness and 
scrupulosity. See note 2, on the first scene. 

6 To deprive is equivalent to disinherit. Exharedo 
is rendered by this word in the old dictionaries : and 
Holinshed speaks of the line of Henry before deprived. 

' How much the following lines are in character, may 
be seen by that monstrous wish of Vanini, the Italian 
atheist, in his tract De Admirandis Naturce, &c. printed 
at Paris, 1616, the very year our poet died : — " O utinam 
extra legitimum et connubialem thorum essum procre- 
atus 1 Ita enim prngenitores mei in venerem incaluis- 
sent ardentius ae cumulatim affatimque generosa se- 



Edm. So please your lordship, none. 

[Putting up the Letter. 

Glo. Why so earnestly seek you to put up thai 
letter ? 

Edm. I know no news, my lord. 

Glo. What paper were you reading ? 

Edm. Nothing, my lord. 

Glo. No? What needed then that terrible de- 
spatch of it into your pocket ? The quality of nothing 
hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see : Come, 
if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. 

Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me : it is a 
letter from my brother, that I have not all o'erread ; 
for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit foj 
your over-looking. 

Glo. Give me the letter, sir. 

Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. 
The contents, as in part I understand them, are to 
blame. 

Glo. Let's see, let's see. 

Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he 
wrote this but as an essay 1 " or taste of my virtue. 

Glo. [Reads.] This policy, and reverence of age, 
makes the world bitter to the best of our times ; keeps 
our fortunes from us, till our oldness cannot relish 
them. I begin to find an idle and fond 1 1 bondage in 
the oppression of aged tyranny ; who sways, not ae 
it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, 
that of this I may speak more. If our father would 
sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his 
revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, 
Edgar. — Humph — Conspiracy! — Sleep till I waked 
him — you should enjoy half his revenue, — My son 
Edgar ! — Had he a hand to write this ? a heart and 
brain to breed it in ? — When came this to you ? 
Who brought it? 

Edm. It was not brought me, my lord, there's 
the cunning of it ; I found it thrown in at the case- 
ment of my closet. 

Glo. You know the character to be your bro- 
ther's ? 

Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst 
swear it were his ; but, in respect of that, I would 
fain think it were not. 

Glo. It is his. 

Edm. It is his hand, my lord ; but, I hope, his 
heart is not in the contents. 

Glo. Hath he never heretofore sounded you in 
this business ? 

Edm. Never, my lord : But I have often heard 
him maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, 
and fathers declining, the father should be as ward 
to the son, and the son manage his revenue. 

Glo. O, villain, villain ! — His very opinion in the 
letter! — Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, 
brutish villain ! worse than brutish ! — Go, sirrah, 
seek- him ; I'll apprehend him : — Abominable vil- 
lain ! — Where is he ? 

Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall 
please ye to suspend your indignation against my 
brother, till you can derive from him better testimony 
of his intent, you shall run a certain course ; wheje, 1 2 
if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his 



mina contulissent, e quibus ego forms blanditiam et 
elegantiam, robustas corporis vires, mentemque innu- 
bilem, consequutus fuissem. At quia coujugatorum sum 
soboles, his urbatus sum bonis." Had the book been 
published but ten or twenty years sooner, who would 
not have believed that Shakspeare alluded to this paa 
sage? But the divinity of his genius foretold, as it 
were, what such an atheist as Vanini would say when 
he wrote on such a subject.' — Warburton. 

7 To subscribe is to yield, to surrender. 

8 Exhibition is an allowance, a stipend. 

9 i. e. in haste, equivalent to upon the spur. A gad 
was a sharp pointed piece of steel, used as a spur to 
urge cattle forward ; whence goaded forward. Mr 
Nares suggests that to gad and gadding originate from 
being on the spur to go about. 

10 ' As an essay,' &c. means as a trial or taste of my 
virtue. ' To assay, or rather essay, of the French 
word essayer,' says Baret ; and a little lower : ' To 
taste or assay before ; prcelibo.' 

11 i. e. weak ■ and foolish. 12 Where fox whereas; 



SM 



KING LEAR. 



Act I. 



purpose, It would make a great gap in your own 
honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedi- 
ence. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he 
hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, 1 
and to no other pretence 2 of danger. 

Glo. Think you so ? 

Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place 
you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by 
an auricular assurance have your satisfaction ; and 
that without any further delay than this very eve- 
ning. 

Glo. He cannot be such a monster. 

[Edm. Nor is not, sure. 

Glo. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely 
loves him. — Heaven and earth ! 3 ] — Edmund, seek 
him out ; wind me into him, 4 I pray you : frame 
the business after your own wisdom : I would un- 
state myself, to be in a due resolution. 5 

Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently ; convey 6 
the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you 
withal. 

Glo. These late eclipses in the sun and moon 
portend no good to us: Though the wisdom of 
nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds 
itself scourged bv the sequent effects :' love cools, 
friendship falls off, brothers divide : in cities, muti- 
nies ; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason ; and 
the bond cracked between son and father. [This 
villain of mine comes under the prediction ; there's 
son against father : the king falls from bias of na- 
ture ; there's father against child. We have seen 
the best of our time : Machinations, hollownesa, 
treachery, and all ruinous disorders, fallow us dis- 
quiotly to our craves ! 8 ] — Find out this villain, 
Edmund, it shall lose thee nothing ; do it carefully : 
—And Ihe noble and true-hearted Kent banished ! 
his offence, honesty ! — Strange! strange! [Exit. 

Edm.TW\s is the excellent foppery of the world," 
that, when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeit 
of our own behaviour,) we make guilty of our dis- 
asters, the sun, the moon, and the stars : as if we 
were villains by necessity : fools, by heavenly com- 
pulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treachcrs 10 by spheri- 
cal predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, 
by an enforced obedience of planetary influence: 
and all that wc are evil in, by a divine thrusting on : 
An admirable evasion of uhoremastcr man, to lay 
his goatish disposition to the charge of B star! 11 
My father compounded with my mother under the 
dragon's tail ; ami mv nativity was under ursa ma- 
jor ; so that it follows,! am rough and lecherous. — 
Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maiden- 

i The usual address to a lord. 

2 i. c. design or purpose. 

3 The words between brackets are omitted in the 
folio. 

4 ' Wind me into him.' Another example of familiar 
expressive phraseology not unrrequent in Shal 

5 'I would i If to be in a due resolution,'' 
means ' / would give all that I am possessed of to be 
satisfied of the truth.' So in the Four Prentices, Reed's 
Old Plays, vol. viii. p. 92 :— 

' Ah, but the resolution of thy death ! 
Made me to lose such thought. 1 
Shakspeare frequently aa&tresoli ed for satisfied. And 
in the third a rs Picture, Sophia says: — 

' I have practised 

For my certain resolution with these courtiers.' 
And in the last Act she says : — 

' Nay, more, to take, 

For the resolution of his tears, a course 
That is, by holy writ, denied a Christian.' 

6 To convey is to conduct, or i-arnj through. 

7 That is,' though natural philosophy can give ac- 
count of eclipses, yet we feel their consequences. 

8 All between brackets is omitted in the quartos. 

9 Warburton, in a Ion? and ingenious note on this 
passage, observes, that in this play the dotages of a judi- 
cial astrolosry are intended to be satirized. It was a 
very prevailing folly in the poet's time. 

10 Treachers is the reading of the folio, which is 
sountenanced by the use of the word in many of our old 
dramas. Chaucer, in his Romaunt of the Rose, men- 
tions ' the false trencher ;' and Spenser many times 
Uses the same epithet. The quartos all read treack- 
srers. 



liest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastard* 
izing. Edgar 

Enter Edgar. 

and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old 
comedy: 12 My cue is villanous melancholy, with 
a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. — O, these eclipses do 
portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi. 13 

Edg. How now, brother Edmund? What seri- 
ous contemplation are you in ? 

Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I 
read this other day, what should follow these eclip- 
ses. 

Edg. Do you busy yourself with that? 

Edm. I promise you, 14 the effects he writes of, 
succeed unhappily : [as of unnaturalness between 
the child and the parent ; death, dearth, dissolu- 
tions of ancient amities ; divisions in state, mena- 
ces and maledictions against king and nobles ; need- 
less diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation 
of cohorts, 11 nuptial breaches, and I know not what. 

Edg. How long have you been a sectary astro- 
nomical ? 

Edm. Come, come ;] when saw you my father 
last? 

Edg. Why, the night gone by. 

Edm. Spake you with him? 

Edg. Ay, two hours together. 

Eilm. Parted you in good terms? Found you 
no displeasure in him, by word or countenance 7 

Edg. None at all. 

Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have 
offended him : and at my entreaty, forbear his pre- 
sence, till some little time hath qualified the heat of 
his displeasure ; which at this instant so rageth in 
him, that with tho mischief of your person it would 
scarcely allay. 

Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. 

Edm. Thai's my fear. [I pray you, have a con- 
tinent 115 forbearance, till the speed of his rage goes 
slower ; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, 
from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord 
speak : Pray you, go ; there's my key ; — If you do 
stir abroad, go armed. 

Edg. Armed, brother?] 

Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best : go 
armed ; I am no honest man, if there be any good 
meaning towards you : I have told you what I have 
seen and heard, but faintly; nothing like the image 
and horror of it : 'Pray you, away. 

Edg. Shall I hear from you anon ? 

Edm. I do serve you in this business. — 

[Exit Edgar. 



11 So Chaucer's Wife of Bath (v. 619G):— 

' I followed ay min inclination, 
By vertue of my constellation.' 

12 Perhaps this was Intended tp ridicule the very awk 
ward conclusions of our old comedies, where the per 
sons of the scene make their entry inartiflcially, and 
just when the poet wants them on the 

13 Shakspeare shows by the context that he was well 
acquainted with the properly of these syllables in sol- 
misation, which imply a series of sounds so unnatural 
that ancient musicians prohibited their use. The monk 
ish writers on music say mi contra fa, est diabblup: 
the interval fa mi including a tri tonus or sharp fourth, 
consisting of three tones without the intervention of a 
semi-tone, expressed in the modern scale by the tetters 
F G A B, would form a musical phrase extremely dis- 
agreeable to the ear. Edmund, speaking of ec'ir 
portents and prodigies, compares the dislocation of 
events, the times being out of joint, to the unnatural and 
offensive sounds fa sol la mi. — Dr. Burney. 

14 The folio edition commonly differs from the first 
quarto, by augmentations or insertions, but in this place it 
varies by the" omission of all between brackets. It is 
easy to remark that in this speech, which outfit, I think, 
to he inserted ?s it now is in the text, Edmund, with the 
common craft of fortune-tellers, mingles the past and 
the future, and tells of the future only what he already 
foreknows by confederacy, or can attain by probable 
Conjecture. — Johnson. 

15 For cohorts some editors read courts. 

16 i. e. temperate. All between brackets is omitted in 
the quartos. 



&CXVH IV. 



KING LEAR. 



n 



A credulous father, and a brother noble, 

Whose nature is so far from doing harms, 

That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty 

My practices ride easy ! — I see the business. — 

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit : 

All with me's meet, that I can fashion fit. [Exit. 

SCENE HI. A Room in the Duke of Albany's 
Palace. Enter Gonerii, and Steward. 
Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for 

chiding of his fool ? 
Sleiv. Ay, madam. 

Gon. By day and night ! he wrongs me ; every 
hour 
He flashes into one gross crime or other, 
That sets us all at odds : I'll not endure it: 
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us 
On every trifle ; — When he returns from hunting, 
I will not speak with him : say, I am sick:— 
If you come slack of former services, 
You shall do well ; the fault of it I'll answer. 
Stew. He's coming, madam ; I hear him. 

[Horns within. 
Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, 
You and vour fellows ; I'd have it come to question : 
If he dislike it, let him to my sister, 
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, 
[Not to be over-rul'd. Idle old man, 1 
That still would manage those authorities, 
That he hath given away ! — Now, by my life, 
Old fools are babes, again ; and must be us'd 
With checks, as flatteries, — when they are seen 

abus'd. 2 ] 
Remember what I have said. 

Stew. Very well, madam. 

Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among 

you ; 

What grows of it, no matter ; advise your fellows so: 

[I would breed from hence occasions, and I sha.ll, 

That I may speak: 3 ] — I'll write straight to my 

sister, 
To hold my very course : — Prepare for dinner. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE rV. A Hall in the same. Enter Kent, 
disguised. 
Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, 
That can my speech diffuse, 4 my good intent 
May carry through itself to that full issue 
For which I raz'd 5 my likeness. — Now, banish'd 

Kent, 
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, 
(So may it come !) thy master, whom thou lov'st, 
Shall find thee full of labours. 

Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights, and Attend- 
ants. 

Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner : go, get 
it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now, what 
art thou ? 

Kent. A man, sir. 



1 This line and the four following' are not in the 
folio. Theobald observes that they are fine in them- 
selves, and much in character for Gonerii. 

2 I take the meaning of this passage to he.f ' Old men 
are babes again, and must be accustomed to checks as 
well as flatteries, especially when the latter are seen to 
be abused by them.' 

3 The words in brackets are found in the quartos, but 
omitted in the folio. 

4 To diffuse here means to disguise, to render it 
strange, to obscure it. See Merry Wives of Windsor. 
We must suppose that Kent advances looking on his 
disguise. This circumstances very naturally leads to 
his speech, which otherwise would have no apparent 
introduction. 

5 i. e. effaced. 

6 To converse signifies immediately and properly to 
keep company, to have commerce with. Hia meaning 
's, that he chooses for his companions men of reserve 
and caution ; men who are not tattlers nor ta.ebearers. 

7 it is not clear how Kent means to make the eating 
no fish a recommendatory quality, unless we suppose 
that it arose from the odium then cast upon the papists, 
who were the most strict observers of periodical fasts, 



Lear. What dost thou profess ? What would'st 
thou with us ? 

Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem : to 
serve him truly, that will put me in trust ; to love 
him that is honest ; to converse 6 with him that 19 
wise, and says little ; to fear judgment ; to fight, 
when I cannot choose : and to eat no fish. 7 

Lear. What art thou ? 

Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor 
as the king. 

Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is 
for a king, thou art poor enough. What would'st 
thou? 

Kent. Service. 

Lear. Who would'st thou serve ? 

Kent. You. 

Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow ? 

Kent. No, sir ; but you have that in your coun- 
tenance, which I would fain call master. 

Lear. What's that ? 

Kent. Authority. 

Lear. What services canst thou do ? 

Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar 
a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain mes- 
sage bluntly : that which ordinary men are fit for, I 
am qualified in ; and the best of me is diligence. 

Lear. How old art thou ? 

Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for 
singing ; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing : 
I have years on my back forty-eight. 

Lear. Follow me ; thou shalt serve me ; if I like 
thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee 
yet. — Dinner, ho, dinner ! — Where's my knave ? 
my fool 1 Go you, and call my fool hither : 

Enter Steward. 
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter ? 

Stew. So please you [Exit. 

Lear. What says the fellow there ? Call the clot- 
poll back. — Where's my fool, ho ? — I think the 
world's asleep. — How now ? where's that mongrel ? 

Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not 
well. 

Lear. Why came not the slave back to me, when 
I call'd him ? 

Knight. Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest 
manner, he would not. 

Lear. He would not ! 

Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is ; 
but, to my judgment, your highness is not enter- 
tain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were 
wont ; there's a great abatement of kindness ap 
pears, as well in the general dependants, as in the 
duke himself also, and your daughter. 

Lear. Ha ! say'st thou so ? 

Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I 
be mistaken ; for my duty cannot be silent, when I 
think your highness is wrong'd. 

Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own 
conception ; I have perceived a most faint neglect 
of late ; which I have rather blamed as mine own 
jealous curiosity, 8 than as a very pretence 9 and 



which though enjoined to the people under the pro- 
testant government of Elizabeth, were not very palatable 
or strictly observed by the commonality. Marston's 
Dutch Courtezan says, ' I trust I am none of the wicked 
that eat Jish a Fridays.' I cannot think with Mr. Blake- 
way, who says that Kent means to insinuate that he 
never desires to partake offish because it was esteemed a 
luxury .' and therefore incompatible with his situation 
as an humble and discreet dependant. The repeated 
promulgation of mandates from the court for the belter 
observation of fish days disproves this. I have before 
me a Letter of Archbishop Whitgill, in 1596, strictly 
enjoining the clergy of his diocess to attend to the 
observance of the fasts and fish days among their 
respective parishioners, and severely animadverting 
upon the refractory spirit which disposed them to eat 
flesh out ot due season contrary to law. 

8 By jealous curiosity Lear appears to mean a punc- 
tilious jealousy, resulting from a scrupulous watchful- 
ness of his own dignity. See the second note on the 
first scene of this play. 

9 A very pretence is an absolute design. So in a for- 
mer scene, ' to no other pretence of danger.' 



<M 



KING LEAR. 



Act i 



purpose of unkindness : I will look further into't. — 
But where's my fool ? I have not seen him this two 
clays. 

Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, 
sir, the fool hath much pined away. 1 

Lear. No more of that ; I have noted it well. — 
Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with 
her. — Go you, and call hither my fool. — 

Re-enter Steward. 

O, you sir, you sir, come you hither : Who am I, 
sir? 

Stew. My lady's father. 

Lear. My lady's father! my lord's knave ; you 
whoreson dog ! you slave ! you cur ! 

Stev}. I am none of this, my lord ; I beseech you, 
pardon me. 

Lear. Do you bandy 2 looks with me, you rascal ? 
[Striking him. 

Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord. 

Kent. Nor tripped neither ; you base foot-ball 
player. [Tripping up his Heels. 

Lear. I thank thee, fellow ; thou servest me, and 
I'll love thee. 

Kent. Come, sir, arise, away ; I'll teach you dif- 
ferences : away, away : If you will measure your 
lubber's length again, tarrv : but away : go to : 
Have you wisdom ? so. [Pushes the Steward out. 

Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee : 
there's earnest of thy service. 

[Giving Kent Money. 
Enter Fool, 

Fool. Let me hire him too ; — Here's my cox- 
comb. [Giving Kent his Cap. 

Lear. How now, my pretty knave ? how dost 
thou ? 

Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. 

Kent. Why, fool 7 

Fool. Why? For taking one's part that is out of 
favour : Nay, and thou canst not smile as the wind 
sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly. 3 There, take my 
coxcomb : Why, this fellow has banish'd two of his 
daughters, and did the third a blessing against his 
will : if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my 
coxcomb. 4 — How now, nuncio ? b 'Would, I had two 
coxcombs and two daughters ! 

Lear. Why, my boy 7 

Fool. If I gave them all my living, 6 I'd keep my 
coxcombs myself: There's mine ; beg another of 
thy daughters. 

Lear. Take heed, sirrah ; the whip. 

Fool. Truth's a dog that must to kennel? he 
must be whipped out, when Lady, the brach,' may 
stand by the fire, and stink. 

Lear. A pestilent gall to me ! 

Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. 

Lear. Do. 

Fool. Mark it, nuncle : — 



1 This is an endearing circumstance in the Fonl's cha- 
racter, and creates such an interest in his favour as his 
wit alone might have Tailed to procure for him. — Slee- 
vens. 

2 A metaphor from tennis. ' Come in and take this 
band;/ with the racket of patience.' — Deckers Satiro- 
mastix. ' To band;/ a ball,' Cole defines clarapilam 
torquere ; ' To bandy at tennis,' reticulo pellere. 'To 
bandy blows' is still a common idiom. 

3 i. e. be turned out of doors and exposed to the in- 
clemency of the weather. 

4 The reader may see a representation of this orna- 
ment of the fool's cap in Mr. Douce's Illustrations of 
Shakspeare, vol. ii. ' Natural ideots and fools have, and 
still do accustome themselves to weare in their cappes 
cockes feathers, or a hat with a necke and heade of a 
eocke on the top, and a bell thereon.' — Minsheu's Dic- 
tionary, 1617. 

5 A familiar contraction of mine uncle, as ningle, &c. 
It seems that the customary appellation of the old licen- 
sed fool to his superiors was uncle. In Beaumont and 
Fletcher's Pilgrim, when Alinda assumes the character 
of a fool, she uses the same language. She meets 
Alphonso, and calls him nuncle ; to which he replies 
by calling her naunl. In the same style it appears the 
fools called each other cousin. Mon oncle was long a 



Have more than thou showest, 
Speak less than thou knowest, 
Lend less than thou owest, 8 
Ride more than thou goest, 
Learn more than thou trowest,' 
Set less than thou throwest, 
Leave thy drink and thy whore, 
And keep in-a-door, 
And thou shalt have more 
Than two tens to a score. 
Lear. This is nothing, fool. 
Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'4 
lawyer ; you gave me nothing for't ; Can you make 
no use of nothing, nuncle? 

.Lear. Why, no, boy ; nothing can be made out 
of nothing. 

Fool. 'Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of hia 
land comes to ; he will not believe a fool. 

[To Kent. 
Lear. A bitter fool ! 

Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, 
between a bitter fool and a sweet fool ? 
Lear. [No, lad ; teach me. 
Fool. That lord, that counsel'd thee 
To give away thy land, 
Come place him here by me,—. 

Or do thou for him stand : 
The sweet and bitter fool 
Will presently appear ; 
The one in motley here, 
The other found out there 
Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy ? 
Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away/ 
that thou wast born with. 

Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. 
Fool. No, 'faith, lords and great men will not lot 
me ; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part 
on't : and ladies, too, they will not let me have 
aH fool to myself; they'll be snatching. 10 ] — Give 
me an egg; nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. 
Lear. What two crowns shall they be ? 
Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, 
and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg, 
When thou clovest thy crown i' the middle, and 
gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy 
back over the dirt : Thou had'st little wit in thy 
bald crown, when thou gavest thy golden one away. 
If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipp'd 
that first finds it so. 

Fools had ne , er less grace in a year ;' ' [Singing. 

For wise men are grown foppish ; 
And know not how their wits to wear. 

Their manners are so apish. 
Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, 
sirrah ? 

Fool. I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou 
madest thy daughters thy mother ; for when thou 



term of respect and familiar endearment in France, aa 
well as ma tante. They have a proverb, ' II est bien 
mon oncle, qui le ventre me comble.' It is remarkable, 
observes Mr. Vaillant, that the lower people in Shrop. 
shire call the judge of assize ' my nu?icle the judge.' 
t> All my estate or property. 

7 It has already been shown that brach was a man- 
nerly name for a bitch. So Hotspur, in The Second 
Part of King Henry IV. says : — ' I would rather hear 
Lady my brach howl in Irish.' 

8 That is, ' do not lend all that thou hast.' To owe 
in ancient language is to possess. 

9 To trow is to believe. The precept is admirable. 
Set in the next line means stake. 

10 The passage in brackets is omitted in the folio, 
perhaps for political reasons, as it seem to censure tha 
monopolies, the gross abuses of which, and the cor- 
ruption and avarice of the courtiers, who went shares 
with the patentee, were more legitimate than safe ob- 
jects of satire. 

11 ' There never was a time when fools were less in 
favour ; and the reason is, that they were never so 
little wanted, for wise men now supply their place.' — 
In Mother Bombie, a Comedy, by Lyly, 1594, we find 
' I think gentlemen had never less vrit in a year.' It is 
remarkable that the quartos read ' less icit,' instead of 
' less grace,'' which is the reading ol'the folio 



&CEWE IV. 



KING LEAR. 



«K 



gavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own 
breeches, 

Then they for sudden joy did weep. [Singing. 

And I for sorrow sung, 
That such a king should play bo-peep, 
And go the fools among. 1 

Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can 
teach thy fool to lie ; I would fain learn to lie. 

Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. 

Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters 
are : they'll have me whipp'd for speaking true, 
thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying ; and, sometimes, 
I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather 
be any kind of thing, than a fool : and yet I would 
not be thee, nuncle ; thou hast pared thy wit o' both 
sides, and left nothing in the middle : Here comes 
one o' the parings. 

<• Enter Goneril. 

Lear. How now, daughter ! what makes that 
frontlet 2 on ? Methinks you are too much of late i' 
the frown. 

Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st 
no need to care for her frowning ; now thou art an 
O 3 without a figure : I am better than thou art 
now ; I am a fool, thou art nothing. — Yes, forsooth, 
I will hold my tongue ! so your face [To Gon.] bids 
me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, 
He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 
Weary of all, shall want some. 
That's a shealed peascod. 4 [Pointing to Lear. 

Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-iicens'd fool, 
But other of your insolent retinue 
Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth 
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 
I had thought by making this well known unto you, 
To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful, 
By what yourself too late have spoke and done, 
That you protect this course, and put it on 5 
By your allowance ; which if you should, the fault 
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep ; 
Which in the tender of a wholesome weal, 
Might in their working do you that offence, 
Which else were shame, that then necessity 
Will call discreet proceeding. 

Fool. For you trow, nuncle, 

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
That it had its head bit off by its young. 
So, out went the candle and we were left darkling. 6 

1 So in the Rape of Lucrece, by Heywood, 160S: — 

' When Tarquin first in court began, 
And was approved king, 
Some men for sodden joy gan iceep, j 

Jind I for sorrow sing.' 

2 X frontlet, or forehead cloth, was worn by ladies of 
old to prevent wrinkles. So in George Chapman's Hero 
and Leander, ad finem : — 

' E'en like the forehead cloth that in the night, 
Or when they sorrow, ladies us'd to wear.' 
Thus also in Zepheria, a collection of Sonnets, 4to. 
1594 :— 
' But now, my sunne, it fits thou take thy set 
And vayle thy face with froipneb as with a frontlet.'' 
And in Iiyly's Euphues and his England, 15S0: — ' The 
next day coming to the gallery where she was solitary 
walking, with her frowning cloth, as sicke lately of the 
Eullens,' &c. 

3 i. e. a cipher. 

4 Now a mere husk that contains nothing. The ro- 
bing of Richard II. 's elYtsy in Westminster Abbey is 
wrought v,mh peascods open and {he peas out; perhaps 
an allusion to his being once in full possession of sove- 
reignty, but soon reduced to an empty title. See Cam- 
den's Remaines, 1674, p. 453, edit. 1657, p. 340. 

5 Put it on, that is, promote it, push it forward. Jll- 
lowance is approbation. 

6 ' Shakspeare's fools are. certainly copied from the 
life. The originals whom he copied were no doubt men 
of quick parts ; lively and sarcastic. Though they 
were licensed to say any thing, it was still necessary, to 
prevent giving offence^ that every thing they said should 
have a playful air : we may suppose therefore that they 
had a custom of taking off the edge of too sharp a 
speech by covering it nastily with the end of an old 
song, or any glib nonsense that came into their mind. I 
know no other way of accounting for the incoherent 

59 



Lear. Are you our daughter? 

Gon. Come, sir,' I would you would make use of 
that good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught ; 
and put away these dispositions, which of late trans- 
form you from what you rightly are. 

Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws 
the horse ? Whoop, Jug ! I love thee. 

Lear. Does any here know me ? — Why, this is not 
Lear: does Lear walk thus? speak thus ? Where 
are his eyes ? Either his notion weakens, or his dis- 
cernings arc lethargied. — Sleeping or waking?— 
Ha ! sure 'tis not so. — Who is it that can tell me 
who I am? 

Fool. Lear's shadow, 

Lear. [I would learn that ; for by the marks of 
sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be 
false persuaded I had daughters. 

Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.] 

Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman ? 

Gon. Come, sir ; 
This admiration is much o' the favour 9 
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 
To understand my purposes aright : 
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise : 
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires , 
Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd, and bold, 
That this our court, infected with their manners, 
Shows like a riotous inn : epicurism and lust 
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel, 
Than a grae'd palace. The shame itself doth speak 
For instant remedy : Be then desir'd 
By her that else will take the thing she begs, 
A little to disquantity your train : 
And the remainder, that shall still depend, 10 
To be such men as may besort your age, 
And know themselves and you. 

Lear. Darkness and devils !— 

Saddle my horses ; call my train together. — 
Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee ; 
Yet have I left a daughter. [rabble 

Gon. You strike my people ; and your disorder'd 
Make servants of their betters. 

Enter Albany. 

Lear. Wo, that too late repents, 11 — O, sir, are 
you come? 

words with which Shakspeare often finishes this fool's 
speeches.' — Sir Joshua Reynolds. In a very old dra- 
ma, entitled The Longer thou Livest the more Foole 
thou art, printed about 1580, we find the following stage 
direction : — 'Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vaine ges- 
ture and a foolish countenance, singing the foote. of 
many songs, as fools were wont.'' 

7 The folio omits these words, and reads the rest of 
the speech, perhaps rightly, as verse. 

8 This passage has been erroneously printed in all 
the late editions. ' Who is it can tell me who I amr 1 
says Lear. In the folio the reply, 'Lear's shadow,' is 
rightly given to the Fool, but the latter part of the speech 
of Lear is omitted in that copy. Lear heeds not what 
the Fool replies to his question, but continues : — 'Were 
I to judge from the marks of sovereignty, 6f knowledge, 
or of reason, I should be induced to think I had daugh- 
ters, yet that must be a false persuasion ;— it cannot 
be — .' The Fool seizes the pause in Lear's speech to 
continue his interrupted reply to Lear's question : he 
had before said, ' You are Lear's shadow ;' he now 
adds, ' which they (i. e. your daughters,) will make an 
obedient father.' Lear heeds him not in his emotion, 
but addresses Goneril with ' Your name, fair gentlewo 
man.' It is remarkable that the continuation of Lear's 
speech, and the continuation of the Fool's comment, is 
omitted in the folio copy. 

9 i. e. of the complexion. So in Julius Caesar: — 

' In favour's like the work we have in hand.' 

10 i. e. continue in service. So in Measure for Mea 
sure : — 

'Canst thou believe thy living is a life, 
So stinkingly depending.' 

11 One of the quar'o copies reads, ' We that too late 
repents us.' The others, ' We that too late repents." 
This may have been suggested by the Mirrour for Ma- 
gistrates : — 

' They call him doting foole, all his requests debarr'd 
Demanding if with life he were not well cor tent: 
Then he too late his rigour did repent 
Gainst me.' Story of Qzjmw Cordelia. 



402 



KING LEAR. 



Act L 



Is it your will? [To Alb.] Speak, sir. — Prepare 

my horses. 
Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted fiend, 
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 
Than the sea-monster! 1 

Alb. 'Pray, sir, be patient. 

Lear. Detested kite ! thouliest: [To Gonerii,. 
My train are men of choice and rarest parts, 
That all particulars of duty know : 
And in the most exact regard support 
The worships of their name. — O, most small fault, 
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show ! 
Which, like an engine, 2 wrench'd my frame of na- 
ture 
From the fix'd place ; drew from my heart all love, 
And added to the gall. O, Lear, Lear, Lear ! 
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in, 

[Striking his Head. 
And thy dear judgment out. — Go, go, my people. 

Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant 
Of what hath mov'd you. 

Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Hear, nature, hear ; 
Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if 
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful ! 
Into her womb convey sterility ! 
Dry up in her the organs of increase ; 
And from her derogate 3 body never spring 
A babe to honour her! If she must teem, 
Create her child of spleen ; that it may live, 
And be a thwart 4 disnatur'd torment to her ! 
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ; 
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks : 
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,* 
To laughter and Contempt ; that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is* 
To have a thankless child ! — Away ! away ! [Exit. 

Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes 
this? 

Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause ; 
But let his disposition have that scope 
That dotage gives it. 

Re-enter Lear. 

Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap* 
Within a fortnight? 

Alb. What's the matter, sir ? 

Lear. I'll tell thee ; — Life and death ! I am 
asham'd 
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus : 

[To GoNERIL. 

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, 
Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and fogs 

upon thee ! 
The untented 7 woundings of a father's curse 
Pierce every sense about thee ! — Old fond eyes, 
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out ; 
And cast' you, with the waters that you lose, 
To temper clay. — Ha ! is it come to this ? 



1 The sea monster is the hippopotamus, the hiero- 
glyphical symbol of impiety and ingratitude. Sandys, 
in his Travels, says, ' that he killeth his sire, and ra- 
visheth his own dam.' 

2 By an engine the rack is here intended. So in The 
Night Walker, by Beaumont and Fletcher : — 

' Their souls shot through with adders, torn on engines.' 

3 Derogate here means degenerate, degraded. 

4 Thwart as a noun adjective is not frequent in our 
language. It is to be found, however, in Promos and 
Cassandra, 157S : — 

' Sith fortune thtvart doth crosse my joys with care.' 
Visnatured is wanting natural affection. So Daniel, in 
Hymen's Triumph, 1623: — 'I am not so disnatur'd a 
man.' 

5 ' Pains and benefits,' in this place, signify mater- 
nal cares and good offices. 

6 So in ¥salm cxl. 3 : — ' They have sharpened their 
tongues like a serpent ; adder's poison is under their 
lips.' The viper was the emblem of ingratitude. 

7 The untented woundings are the rankling or never 
healing wounds inflicted by a parental malediction. 
Tents are well known dressings inserted into wounds as 
a preparative to healing them. Shakspeare quibbles 
upon ibis surgiial practice in Troilus and Cressida : — 

• Fatr. Who keeps the tent now ?' 

1 1'her. The surgeon's box, or the patient's icound,'' 



Let it be so: — Yet have I left a daughter, 
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable ; 
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 
She'll flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find. 
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think 
I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.* 
[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants 
Gon. Do you mark that, my lord ? 
Alb. I cannot be so partial, Gonerii, 

To the great love I bear you, 

Gon. 'Pray you, content. — What Oswald, ho ! 
You sir, more knave than fool, after your master. 

[To the Fool 
Fool. Nuncle Lear, nunclc Lear, tarry, and take 
the fool with thee. 

A fox, when one has caught her, 
And such a daughter, 
Should sure to the slaughter, 
If my cap would buy a halter ; 
So the fool follows after. [Exit. 

Gon. 3 [This man hath had good counsel : — A 
hundred knights ! 
'Tis politic, and safe, to let him keep 
At point, 10 a hundred knights ! Yes, that on every 

dream, 
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 
He may enguard his dotage with their powers, 
And hold our lives in mercy.] Oswald, I say !- • 
Alb. Well, you may fear too far. 
Gon. Safer than trust too far : 

Let me still take away the harms I fear, 
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart : 
What he hath utter'd, I have writ my sister ; 
If she sustain him and his hundred knights, 
When I have show'd the unfitness, — How now", 
Oswald ? 

Enter Steward. 
What, have you writ that letter to my sister ? 
Stew. Ay, madam. 

Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse : 
Inform her full of my particular fear ; 
And thereto add such reasons of your own, 
As may compact it more. Get you gone , 
And hasten your return. [Exit Stew.] No, no, my 

lord, 
This milky gentleness, and course of yours, 
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon, 
You are much more attask'd 1 ' for want of wisdom, 
Than prais'd for harmful mildness. 

Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell ; 
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. 12 

Gon. Nay, then, 

Alb. Well, well ; the event. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Court before the same. Enter Lear, 
Kent, and Fool. 

Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these let- 
ters : acquaint my daughter no further with any 
thing you know, than comes from her demand out 
of the letter : If your diligence be not speedy, I 
shall be there before you. 13 



8 This speech is gleaned partly from the folios and 
partly from the quartos. The omissions in the one and 
the other are not of sufficient importance to trouble the 
reader with a separate notice of each. 

9 All within brackets is omitted in the quartos. 

10 Jit point probably means completely armed, and 
consequently ready at appointment on the slightest 
notice. 

11 The word task is frequently used by Shakspeare 
and his contemporaries in the sense of tax. Gonerii 
means to say, that he was more taxed for want of 
wisdom, than praised for mildness. So in The Island 
Princess of Beaumont and Fletcher, Quisana says to 
Ituy Dias : — 

' You are too saucy, too impudent, 
To task me with these errors.' 

12 ' Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, 

To mar the subject that before was well ? 

13 The word there in this speech shows that when the 
king says, 'Go you before to Glcster,' he means the 
town of Gloster, which Shakspeare chose to make the 
residence of the Duke of Cornwall, to increase the pro- 
bability of their setting out late from thence on a visit to 



Scene V. 



KING LEAR. 



403 



Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have de- 
livered your letter. [Exit. 

Fool. If a man's brains were in his heels, were't 
not in danger of kibes? 

Lear. Ay, boy. 

Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry ; thy wit shall 
not go slip-shod, 

Lear. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee 
kindly; 1 for though she's as like this as a crab is 
like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. 

Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy ? 

Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab does to 
a crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands 
Pthe middle of his face ? 

Lear. No. 

Fool. Why, to keep his eyes on either side his 
nose ; that what a man cannot smell out, he may 
spy into. 

Lear. I did her wrong : 2 

Fool. Can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell? 

Lear. No. 

Fool. Nor I neither ; but I can tell why a snail 
has a house. 

Lear, Why? 

Fool. Why, to put his head in : not to give it 
away to his daughters, and leave his horns without 
a case. 

Lear. I will forget my nature. — So kind a father ! 
—Be my horses ready ? 

Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The rea- 
son why the seven stars are no more than seven, is 
a pretty reason. 

Lear. Because they are not eight ? 

Fool. Yes, indeed : Thou wouldest make a good 
fool. 

Lear. To take it again perforce! 3 — Monster in- 
gratitude ! 

Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee 
beaten for being old before thy time. 

Lear. How's that ? 

Fool. Thou should'st not have been old, before 
thou hadst been wise. 

Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet 
heaven ! 
Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad ! — 

Enter Gentleman. 

How now ! Are the horses ready ? 
Gent. Ready, my lord. 
Lear. Come, boy. 

FooL She that is maid now, and laughs at my de- 
parture, 
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut 
shorter. 4 [Exeunt. 



the Earl of Gloster. Our old English earls usually 
resided in the counties from whence they took their 
titles. Lear, not finding his son-in-law and his wife at 
home, follows them to the earl of Gloster's casile. 

1 The Fool quibbles, using the word kindly in two 
senses ; as it means affectionately, and like the rest of 
her kind, or after their nature. 

2 He is musing on Cordelia. 

3 The subject of Lear's meditation is the resumption 
of that moiety of the kingdom he had bestowed on 
Goneril. This was what Albany apprehended, when he 
replied to the upbraidings of his wife : — ' Well, well : 
the event.' What Lear himself projected when he left 
Goneril to go to Regan : — 

' — Thou shalt find 

That Ttl resume the shape, which thou dost think 

T have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.' 

And what Curan afterwards refers to, when he asks 

Edmund : — ' Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 

twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ?' 

4 This idle couplet (apparently addressed to the 
females present at the representation of the play) most 
probably crept into the playhouse copy from the mouth 
of some buffoon actor who ' spoke more than was set 
down for him ' The severity with which the poet 
animadverts upon the mummeries and jokes of the 
clowns of his time (see Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2) manifests 
that he had suffered by their indiscretion. Indecent 
jokes, which the applause of the groundlings occasion- 
ed to be repeated, would at last find their way into the 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. A Court within the Castle of the Earl tf 
Gloster. Enter E.dmvhd and Cvras, meeting. 

Edm. Save thee, Curan. 

Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, 
and given him notice, that the Duke of Cornwall, 
and Regan his duchess, will be here with him to- 
night. 

Edm. How comes that ? 

Cur. Nay, I know not : You have heard of the 
news abroad : I mean, the whispered ones, for they 
are yet but ear-kissing arguments ? s 

Edm. Not I ; 'Pray you, what are they ? 

Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 8 
'twi.xt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ? 

Edm. Not a word. 

Cur. You may, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. 

[Exit. 

Edm. The duke be here to-night ? The better ! 
Best ! 
This weaves itself perforce into my business ! 
My father hath set guard to take my brother ; 
And I have one thing, of a queasy' question, 
Which 1 must act : — Briefness, and fortune, work !— 
Brother, a word ; descend : — Brother, I say ; 

Enter Edgar. 
My father watches : — O, sir, fly this place ; 
Intelligence is given where you are hid ; 
You have now the good advantage of the night : — 
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ? 
He's coming hither ; now, i' the night, i' the haste, 
And Regan with him ; Have you nothing said 
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany ? 8 
Advise 9 yourself. 
Edg. I am sure on't, not a word. 

Edm. I hear my father coming, — Pardon me :— • 
In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you : — 
Draw : Seem to defend yourself : Now quit you 

well. 
Yield : — come before my father ; — Light, ho, here ' 
Fly, brother ; — Torches ! Torches ! — So fareweL 

[Exit Edgak 
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 

[ Wounds his Arm. 
Of my more fierce endeavour : I have seen 

drunkards 
Do more than this in sport. 10 — Father! Father! 
Stop, stop! No help? 

Enter Gloster, and Servants with Torches. 
Glo. Now, Edmund, where's the villain ? 
Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword 
out, 
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon 
To stand his auspicious mistress: 11 — 

Glo. But where is he ? 

Edm. Look, sir, I bleed. 

Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund ? 



prompter's books, &c. Such liberties were indeed exer- 
cised by the authors of Locrine, &c. but such another 
offensive and extraneous address to the audience cannot 
be pointed out among all the dramas of Shakspeare. 

5 Ear-kissing arguments means that they are yet 
in reality only whispered ones. 

6 This and the following speech are omitted in the 
quarto B. 

7 Queasy appears to mean here delicate, unsettled. 
So Ben Jonson, in Sejanus : — 

' These times are rather queasy to be touched.- 
Have you not seen or read part of his book ?' 
Queasy is still in use to express that sickishness of 
stomach which the slightest disgust is apt to provoke. 

8 Have you said nothing upon the party formed by 
him against the Duke of Albany? 

9 i. e. consider, recollect yourself. 

10 These drunken feats are mentioned in Marston's 
Dutch Courtezan : — ' Have I not been drunk for your 
health, eat glasses, drunk wine, stabbed arms, and 
done all offices of protested gallantry for your sake ?' 

11 This was a proper circumstance to urge to Gloster 
who appears to have been very superstitious with regard 
to this matter, if we may judge by what passes jetween 
him and his son ia a foregoing scene 



KING LEAR, 



Act H„ 



Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means 
he could 

Glo. Pursue him, ho! — Go after. — [Exit Serv.] 
By no means, — what ? 

Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship ; 
But that I told him, the revenging gods 
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend ; 
Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond 
The child was bound to the father ; — Sir, in fine, 
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood 
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, 
With his prepared sword, he charges home 
My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm : 
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, 
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter, 
Or whether gasted 1 by the noise I made, 
Full suddenly he fled. 

Glo. Let him fly far : 

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught ; 
And found — Despatch. 2 — The noble duke my mas- 
ter, 
My worthy arch 3 and patron, comes to-night : 
By his authority I will proclaim it, 
That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks, 
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ; 
He, that conceals him, death. 

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent, 
And found him night to do it, with curst speech ;* 
I threaten'd to discover him : He replied, 
Thou unpossessing bastard ! dost thou think, 
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal* 
Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee 
JHake thy words faith'd ! No : what I should deny, 
(As this I would ; ay, though thou didst produce 
illy very character*) I'd turn it all 
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice : 
And thou must make a dullard of the world, 
If they not thought the profits of my death 
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 7 
To make thee seek it. 

Glo. Strong and fastcn'd villain ; 

Would he deny his letter?— I never got him. 

[Trum]iits within. 
Hark, the duke's trumpets ! I know not why he 

comes : — 
All ports I'll bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ; 
The duke must grant me that : besides, his picture 
I will send fir and near, that all the kingdom 
May have due note of him ; and of my land, 
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means' 
To make thee capable. 

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendant. 
Corn. How now, my noble friend ? since I came 
hither 
(Which. I can call but now,) I have heard strange 
news. 
Reg. If it be true, all venseance comes too short, 
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, myAord? 
Glo.O, madam, myoldheartiscrack'd,iscrack'd! 



1 That is aghasted, frighted. Thus in Beaumont 
and Fletcher's Wit at Several Weapons :—' Either the 
sight of ihe lady has pasted him, or else he's drunk.' 

•2 'And found— Despatch. — The noble duke.' &c. — . 
The sense is interrupted. He shall be caught — and 
found, he shall be punished. Despatch. 

3 i. e. chief : a word now only used in composition, 
as arch-ansel. arcli-duke, &c. So in Heywood's If 
You Know Not Me, You Know Nobody :— ' Poole, that 
arch of truth and honesty.' 

4 * And found him pight to do it, with curst speech.' 
Pight is pitched, fixed, settled; curst is vehemently 
angry, bitter. 

' Therefore my heart is surely pight 
Of her alone to have a sight.' 

Lusty Juvenilis, 1561. 
' He did with a very curste taunte, checke, and re- 
buke the feloe.' — Erasmus's Jlpophthezmes, by N. 
Udal, h. 47. 

o i. e. would any opinion that men have reposed in 
thy trust, virtue, &c. The old quarto reads, ' could the 
reposure.' 

6 i. e. my hand-writing, my signature. 

7 The folio reads, ; potential 'spirits.' And in the 
ne.xt line but one, ' O strange and fastened villain.'— 



Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life? 
He whom' my father nam'd ? your Edgar ? 

Glo. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid ! 

Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous 
knights 
That tend upon my father ? 

Glo. I know not, madam : 

It is too bad, too bad. — 

Edm. Yes, madam, he was. 

Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill affected ; 
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, 
To have the waste and spoil of his revenues. 
I have this present evening from my sister 
Been well inform'd of them ; and with such cautions, 
That, if they come to sojourn at my house, 
I'll not be there. 

Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — 

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father 
A child-like office. 

Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir. 

Glo. He did bewray his practioe, 3 and recerv'd 
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 

Corn. Is he pursued ? 

Glo. Ay, my good lord, he is. 

Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more 
Be fear'd of doing harm : make vour own purpose, 
How in my strength you please. — For you, Edmund, 
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant 
So much commend itself, you shall be ours ; 
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need ; 
You we first seize on. 

Edm. I shall serve you, sir, 

Truly, however else. 

Glo. For him I thank your grace. 

Corn. You know not why we came to vrsft yon. 

Reg. Thus out of season ; threading dark-ey'd 
night. 
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some porze,' 
Wherein we must have use of your advice :— 
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, 
Of differences, which I best thought it fit 
To answer from our home;" the several messengers 
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend. 
Lay comforts to your bosom ; and bestow 
Your neodful counsel to our business, 
Which craves the instant use. 

Glo. I serve you, madam : 

Your graces are right welcome* [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Before Gloster's Castle. Enter Kent 
and Steward, severally. 

Stem. Gooddawning 12 to thee, friend: Art of the 
house? 

Kent. Ay. 

Stew. Where may we set our horses? 

Km/. I' the mire. 

Slew. 'Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me. 

Ki nt. I love thee not. 

Slew. Why, then I care not for thee. 

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold,' 3 I would 
make thee care for me. 



Strong is determined, resolute. Our ancestors often 
used it in an ill sense ; as strong thief, strong whore, 
&c. 

She. capable of succeeding to my land, notwithstand- 
ing the legal bar of thy illegitimacy. ' The king next 
demanded of him (he being a fool) whether he were 
capable to inherit any land,' &c. — Life and Death of 
Will Snmers, &c. 

9 ' He did bewray his practice.' That is, he did be- 
tray or reveal his treacherous devices. So in the 
second book of Sidney's Arcadia :— ' His heart fainted 
and gat a conceit, that with bewraying his practice 
he might obtain pardon.' The quartos read betray. 

10 i. e. of some weight, or moment. The folio and 
quarto B. TeaAjjrize. 

11 That is, not at home, but at some other place. 

12 The quartos read, 'gooderew.' Dawning is used 
again in Cymbeline, as a substantive, for morning. It 
is clear from various passages in this scene that the 
morning is just beginning to dawn. 

13 i. e. Lipsbury pound. ' Lipsbury pinfold' may, 
perhaps, like Lob's pound, be a coined name ; but with 
what allusion does not appear. It is just possible (says 
Mr. Nares) that it might mean the teeth, as being the 



Scene II. 



KING LEAR. 



405 



Slew. Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee 
aot. 

Kent. Fellow, I know thee. 

Stew. What dost thou know me for? 

Kent. A knave ; a rascal, an eater of broken 
meats ; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three- 
suited,' hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking 
knave ; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave ; a whor- 
son, glass-gazing, 'superserviceable, finical rogue ; 
one-irunk-inheriting slave ; one that would'st be a 
bawd, in way of good-service, and art nothing but 
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, 
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch : one whom 
I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st 
the least syllable of thy addition. 2 

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, 
thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, 
lior knows thee '/ 

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to 
deny thou know'st me? Is it two days ago, since 
I tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before the 
king ? Draw, you rogue : for, though it be night, 
the moon shines ; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine 3 
of you : Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-mon- 
ger, 4 draw. {Drawing his Sword. 

Stew. Away ; I have nothing to do with thee. 

Kent. Draw, you rascal ! you come with letters 
against the king ; and take vanity 5 the puppet's 
part, against the royalty of her father : Draw, you 
rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks : — draw, 
you rascal : come your ways. 

Stew. Help, hoi murder! help! 

Kent. Strike, you slave ; stand, rogue, stand ; 
you neat slave, 6 strike. [Beating him. 

Stew. Help, ho ! murder ! murder ! 
Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, 
and Servants. 

Edm. How now ? What's the matter ? Part. 

Kent. With you goodman boy, if you please ; 
come, I'll flesh you ; come on, young master. 

Glo. Weapons ! arms ! What's the matter here ? 



pinfold within the lips. The phrase would then mean, 
' If I had you in my teeth.' It remains for some more 
fortunate inquirer to discover what is really meant. 

1 ' Three-suited knave' might mean, in an age of 
ostentatious finery like that of Shakspeare, one who 
had no greater change of raiment than three suits 
would furnish him with. So in Ben Jonson's Silent 
■Woman : — ' Wert a pitiful fellow, and hadst nothing 
but three suits of apparel.' Ji one-trunk-inheriling 
Elave may be a term used to describe a fellow, the whole 
of whose possessions were confined to one coffer, and 
that too inherited from his father, who was no better 
provided, or had nothing more to bequeath to his'suc- 
cessor in poverty; a poor rogue hereditary, as Timon 
calls Apemantus. A icorsted-s/ocking k?iave is another 
reproach of the same kind. The stockings in England 
in the reign of Elizabeth were remarkably expensive, 
and scarce any other kind than silk were worn, even 
by those who had not above forty shillings a,year wages. 
This we learn from Stubbes in his Anatomie of Abuses, 
1595. In an old comedy, called The Hog hath Lost its 
Pearl, by R. Tailor, 1614, it is said : — ' Good parts are 
no more set by, than a good leg in a woollen stocking.'' 
This term of reproach, as well as that of a hundred 
pound gentleman, occurs in The Phcenix, by Mitjdleton. 
fiction-taking knave is a fellow who, if you beat him, 
would bringan action for the as?,iult instead of resenting 
it like a man of" courage. j 

2 i. e. thy titles. 

3 An equivoque is here intended, by an allusion to 
the old dish of eggs in moonshine, which was eggs 
broken and boiled in sallad oil till the yolks became 
hard. It is equivalent to the phrases of modern times, 
4 I'll baste you,'' or ' beat you to a mummy.'' 

4 Barber-monger may mean dealer with the lower 
tradesmen ; a slur upon the Steward, as taking fees for 
a recommendation to the business of the family. 

5 Alluding to the moralities or allegorical shows, in 
w-hich Vanity, Iniquity, and other vices were per- 
sonified. 

6 Neat elave may mean you base cowherd, or it may 
mean, as Steevens suggests, you finical rascal, you 
assemblage of foppery and poverty. See Cotgrave, in 
Mirloret, Mistoudin, Mondinel ; by which Sherwood 
tenders a neate fellow 

3 To disclaim in, for to disclaim, simply, was the 



Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives ; 
He dies, that strikes again : What is the matter ? 

Reg. The messengers from our sister and the 
king. 

Corn. What is your difference ? speak. 

Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord. 

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your 
valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in T 
thee ; a tailor made thee. 

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow : a tailor make 
a man ? 

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir ; a stone-cutter, or a 
painter, could not have made him so ill, though 
they had been but two hours at the trade. 

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ? 

Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have 
spar'd, 
At suit of his gray beard, 

Kent. Thou whorson zed! 8 thou unnecessary 
letter ! — My lord, if you will give me leave, I will 
tread this unbolted 3 villain into mortar, and daub 
the wall of a Jakes with him. — Spare my gray 
beard, you wagtail ? 

Corn. Peace, sirrah ! 
You beastly knave, know you no reverence ? 

Kent. Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege. 

Corn. Why art thou angry ? 

Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a 
sword, 
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as 

these, 
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain 
Which are too intrinse 10 t' unloose : smooth every 

passion" 
That in the natures of their lords rebels ; 
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods ; 
Renege, 12 affirm, and turn their halcyon 13 beaks 
With every gale and vary of their masters, 
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following. — 
A plague upon your epileptic visage ! 
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool ? 
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, 
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot. 14 



phraseology of the poet's age. See Gifford's Ben Jon- 
son, vol. iii. p. 264. 

8 Zed is here used as a term of contempt, because it 
is the last letter in the English alphabet : it is said to be 
an unnecessary letter, because its place may be sup- 
plied by S. Barer omits it in his Alvearie, affirming it 
to be rather a syllable than a letter. And Mulcaster 
says ' Z is much harder amongst us, and seldom seen. 
S is become its lieutenant-general. It is lightlie (i. e. 
hardly) expressed in English, saven in foren enfran- 
chisements.' 

9 Unboked is unsifted'; and therefore signifies thia 
coarse villain. Massinger, in his New Way to Pay 
Old Debts, Act i. Sc. 1, says :— 

' I will help your memory, 

And tread thee into mortar? 
Unbolted mortar is mortar made of unsifted lime ; and 
therefore to break the lumps it is necessary to tread it 
by men in wooden shoes. 

10 The quartos read, to intrench ; the folio, t' intrince 
Perhaps intri?ise, for so it should be written, was put 
by Shakspeare for intrinsicate, which he has used in 
Antony and Cleopatra. 

' Come, mortal wretch, 

With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
Of iife at once untie.' 
I suspect that the poet meant to write too intrinse ; that 
is, too intricate, or too much intrammelled. See Florio 
in v. intreciaire ; or inlrique for intricated, as we find 
it in Phillips's World of Words. 

11 See Pericles, Act i. Sc. 2. 

12 To renege is to deny. See Antony and Cleopatra, 
Sc. 1, note 1. 

13 The bird called the kingfisher, which when dried 
and hung up by a thread, is supposed to turn his bill to 
the point from whence the wind blows. So in Marlowe's 
Jew of Malta, 1633 : 

' But how now stands the wind/ 
Into what corner peers my halcyoWs bill.'' 
' A lytle byrde called the Kings Fisher, being hanged 
up in the ayre by the neck, his nebbe or byll wyll be 
always direct or straight against ye winde.' — Book of 
Notable Things. 
14 In Somersetshire, near Camelot, are many large 



406 



KING LEAR. 



Act II. 



Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow ? 

Glo. How fell you out ? 

Say that. 

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, 
Than I and such a knave.' 

Corn. Why dost thou call him knave ? What's 
his offence ? 

Kent. His countenance likes me not. 2 

Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or 
hers. 

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain ; 
I have seen better faces in my time, 
Than stands on any shoulder that I see 
Before me at this instant. 

Corn. This is some fellow, 

Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect 
A saucy roughness ; and constrains the garb, 
Quite from his nature : s He cannot flatter, he I — 
An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth : 
An they will take it, so ; if not, he's plain. 
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain- 
ness 
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, 
Than twenty silly 4 ducking observants, 
That stretch their duties nicely. 

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, 
Under the allowance of your grand aspect, 
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 
On flickering 5 Phoebus' front, 

Corn. What mcan'st by this ? 

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you dis- 
commend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer : 
he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain 
knave ; which, for my part, I will not be, though I 
should win your displeasure to entreat me to it. 6 

Corn. What was the offence you gave him? 

Stem. I never gave him any : 

It pleas'd the king his master, very late, 
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction : 
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, 
Tripp'd me behind ; being down, insulted, rail'd, 
And put upon him such a deal of man, 
That wortny'd him, got praises of the king 
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd ; 
And, in the fleshment 7 of this dread exploit, 
Drew on me here again. 

Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards, 

But Ajax is their fool. 8 

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho ! 

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, 
We'll teach you — 

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn : 

Call not your stocks for me : I serve the king ; 
On whose employment I was sent to you : 
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice 



moors, where are bred great quantities of geese. It was 
the place where the romances say King Arthur kept his 
court in the west. 

1 Hence Pope's expression : — 

' The strong antipathy of good to bad.' 

2 i. e. pleases me not. 

3 ' Forces his outside, or his appearance, to some- 
thing totally different from his natural disposition.' 

4 Silly or rather sely', is simple or rustic. Nicely 
here is with scrupulous nicety, punctilious observance. 

5 This expressive word is now only applied to the 
■motion and scintillation of flame. Dr. Johnson says 
that it means to flutter, which is certainly one of its 
oldest meanings, it being used in that sense by Chaucer. 
But its application is more properly made to the fluc- 
tuating scintillations of flame or light. In The Cuckoo, 
by Nicols, 1607, we have it applied to the eye : — 

' Their soft maiden voice and flickering eye.' 

6 ' Though I should win you, displeased as you now 
are, to like me so well as to entreat me to be a knave.' 

7 A young soldier is said to flesh his sword the first 
time he draws blood with it. Tltshment, therefore, is 
here metaphorically applied to the first act of service, 
which Kent, in his new capacity, had performed for his 
master ; at the same time, in a sarcastic sense, as 
•mough he had esteemed it an heroic exploit to trip a 
man behind who was actually falling. 

8 i. e. Ajax is a fool to them. ' These rogues and 
cowards talk in such a boasting strain that, if we were 
to credit their account of themselves. Ajax wouid ap- 



Against the grace and person of my master, 
Stocking his messenger. 

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks : 

As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till nooiu 
Reg. Till noon ! till night, my lord ; and all night 

too. 
Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, 
You should not use me so. 

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. 

[Stocks brought out. 
Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour 
Our sister speaks of: — Come, bring away the 
stocks.' 
Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so : 
His fault is much, and the good king his master 
Will check him for't : your purpos'd low correction 
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches 
For pilferings and most common trespasses, 
Are punish'd with : the king must take it ill, 
That he, so slightly valu'd in his messenger, 
Should have him thus restrain'd. 

Corn. Til answer that. 

Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, 
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted, 
For following her affairs. — Put in his legs. — 

[Kent is put in the Stocks, 
Come, my good lord ; away. 

[Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. 
Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend ; 'tis the duke's 
pleasure, 
Whose disposition, all the world well knows, 
Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd ;'° I'll entreat for 
thee. 
Kent. 'Pray, do not, sir : I have watch'd, and 
travcll'd hard ; 
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. 
A wood man's fortune may grow out at heels : 
( tin you good morrow ! 

Glo. The duke's to blame in this ; 'twill be iri 
taken. [Exit. 

Kent. Good king, that must approve the common 
saw!" 
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st 
To the warm sun ! 

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, 
That by thy comfortable beams I may 
Peruse this letter ! — Nothing almost sees miracles, 
But misery ; — I know 'tis from Cordelia ; 
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 
Of my obscured course ; and shall find time 
From this enormous state, — seeking, — to give 
Losses their remedies : * 2 — All weary and o'er- 
watch'd, 



pear a person of no prowess when compared to them. 7 
So in King Henry VIII. :— 

' now this mask 

Was rry'd im omparable, and the ensuing night 

Made it a fool and beggar.' 
9 This kind of exhibition was familiar to the ancient 
Stage. In Hick Scorner, which was printed in the reign 
of Henry VIII., Pity is put into the stocks, and left there 
until he is freed by Perseverance and Contemplacyon. 
It should be remembered that formerly in great hou- 
ses, as lately in some colleges, there were moveable 
stocks for the correction of the ser-vants. 

10 A metaphor from bowling. 

1 1 The saw, or proverb alluded to, is in Heywooet'3 
Dialogues on Proverbs, V • ii. c. v. : — 

' In your running from him to me ye runne 

Out of God's blessing into the warme «««««.' 

i. e. from good to worse. Kent was thinking of the king 

being likely to receive a worse reception from Regan 

than that which be had already received from GoDerii. 

12 How much has been written about this passage, and 
how much it has been mistaken ! Its evident meaning 
appears to me to be as follows : — Kent addresses the 
sun, for whose rising he is impatient, that he may read 
Cordelia's letter. 'Nothing (says he,) almost K<>es u,!- 
racles, but misery : I know this Ict/et which I hold in 
my hand is from Cordelia ; who hath most fortunately 
been informed of my disgrace and wandering in dis- 
guise ; and who seeking it, shall find time (i. e. oppor- 
tunity,) out of this enormous (i. e. disordered, unnatu- 
ral,) state of things, to give losses their remedies ; to 
restore her father to his kingdom, herself to his lo »Sj 
and me to his favour ' 



er.E«jE rv. 



KING LEAR. 



407 



Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold 
This shameful lodging. 

Fortune, good night ; smile once more ; turn thy 
wheel! [He sleeps, 

SCENE III. A Part of the Heath. Enter Edgar. 

Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd ; 
And, by the happy hollow of a tree, 
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free ; no place, 
That guard, and most unusual vigilance. 
Does not attend my taking. While I may scape, 
I will preserve myself: and am bethought 
To take the basest and most poorest shape, 
That ever penury, in contempt of man, 
Brought near to beast : my face I'll grime with filth ; 
Blanket my loins ; elf all my hair in knots ;' 
And with presented nakedness outface 
The winds, and persecutions of the sky. 
The country gives me proof and precedent 
Of Bedlam beggars, 2 who, with roaring voices, 
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
Pins, wooden pricks, 3 nails, sprigs of rosemary; 
And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
Poor pelting* villages, sheep-cotes and mills, 
Sometime with lunatic bans, 5 sometime with prayers, 
Enforce their charity. — Poor Turlygood I 6 poor 

Tom! 
That's something yet *, Edgar, I nothing am. 

[Exit. 

SCENE IV. Before Gloster's Castle. 1 Enter 
Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. 

Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so depart 
from home, 
And not send back my messenger. 

Gent. As I learn'd, 

The night before there was no purpose in them 
Of this remove. 

Kent. Hail to thee, noble master! 

Lear. How ! 
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ? 



Kent. No, my lord. 

Fool. Ha, ha ; look ! he wears cruel 8 garters ! 
Horses are tied by the heads ; dogs, and bears, by 
the neck ; monkeys by the loins, and men by the 
"egs : when a man is over-lusty at legs, then he 
wears wooden nether-stocks. 9 

Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy place 
mistook 
To set thee here ? 

Kent. It is both he and she, 

Your son and daughter. 

Lear. No. 

Kent. Yes. 

Lear, No, I say. 

Kent. I say, yea. 

Lear. No, no ; they would not. 

Kent. Yes, they have. 

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no. 

Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay. 10 

Lear. They durst not do't ; 
They could not, would not do't ; 'tis worse than 

murder, 
To do, upon respect, such violent outrage: 11 
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way 
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage, 
Coming from us. 

Kent. My lord, when at their home 

I did commend your highness' letters to them, 
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd 
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, 
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth 
From Goneril his mistress, salutations : 
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, 12 
Which presently they read ; on whose contents, 
They summon'd up their meiny, 13 straight took 

horse ; 
Commanded me to follow, and attend 
The leisure of their answer ; gave me cold looks : 



1 Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of 
elves and fairies \a the night. So in Romeo and Juliet 

' plate the manes of horses in the night, 

And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.' 

2 Aubrey, in his MS. Remaines of Gentilisme and 
Judaisme, Fart III. p. 234, b. (MS. Lansdowne, 226,) 
says : — ' Before the civil warrs, I remember Tom a Bed- 
lams went about begging. They had been such as had 
been in Bedlam, and come to same degree of sober- 
nesse ; and when they were licenced to goe out, they 
had on their left arme an armilla of tinne printed, of 
about three inches breadth, which was sodered on.' — H. 
Ellis. 

Randle Holme, in his Academy of Arms and Blazon, 
h. sii. c. 3, gives the following description of a class of 
vagabonds feigning themselves read : — ' The Bedlam is 
in the same garb, with a long staff, and a cow or ox- 
horn by his side ; but his cloathing is more fantastick 
and ridiculous ; for being a madman, he is madly deck- 
ed and dressed all over with rubins, feathers, cuttings 
of cloth, and what not ; to make him seem a madman, 
or one distracted, when he is no other than a dissem- 
biing knave.' 

In the Bell-Man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640, 
is another account of one of these characters, under the 
title of Abraham Man: — ' He sweares he hath, been in 
Bedlam, and will talke frantickely of purpose : you see 
pinnes stuck in sundry places of his naked flesh, espe 
cially in his amies, which paine he gladly puts himselfe 
to, only to make you believe he is out of his wits. He 
calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and coming 
near any body, cries out PoorTom is a-cold. Of these 
Abraham-men some be exceeding merry, and doe no 
thing but sing songs fashioned out of their own braines : 
some will dance, others will doe nothing but either 
laugh or we.epe : others are dogged, and so sullen both 
an lookeand speech, that spying but a small company in 
a house they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the 
servants through feare to give them what they demand.' 
t is probable, as Steevens remarks, that to sham Abra- 
ham, a cant term still in use among sailors and the vul- 
gar, may have this origin. 

3 i. e. skewers : the euonymus, or spindle-tree, of 
which the best skewers are made, is called prick-wood. 

4 Paltry 5 Curses. 

6 Tiurlygood, an English corruption of turluru, Ital. ; 



or turelureau, Fr. ; both, among other things, signify 
ing a fool or madman. It would perhaps be difficult to 
decide with certainty whether those words are corrup 
tions of turlupino and tur lupin j but at least it seems 
probable. The Turlupins were a fanatical sect, which 
overran the continent in the thirteenth and fourteenth 
centuries, calling themselves Beghards or Beghins 
Their manners and appearance exhibited the strongest 
indications of lunacy and distraction ; and their popular 
name, Turlupins, was probably derived from the wolf- 
ish howlings they made in their fits of religious ra- 
ving. Genebrard thus describes them : — ' Turlupin cy- 
nicorum sectam suscilantes, de nuditate pudendorum, et 
publico coitu.' It has not been remarked that Cotgrave 
interprets ' Mon Turelureau, My Pillicock, my pretty 
knave.' 

7 See note 13, Act i. Sc. 5. p. 402, ante. 

S A quibble on crewell, i. e. worsted. So in TheTwc 
Angry Women of Abingdon : — 

' I'll warrant you, he'll have 

His cruell garters cross about the knee.' 

9 The old word for stockings. 

10 This dialogue being taken partly from the folio 
and partly from the quarto, is left without any metrical 
division, as it was not probably all intended to be pre- 
served. 

11 'To do, upon respect, such violent outrage,' I 
think, means ' to do such violent outrage, deliberately, 
or upon consideration.'' Respect is frequently used for 
consideration by Shakspeare.' Cordelia says, in the 
first scene : — 

' Since that respects of fortune are his love, 

I shall not be his wife.' 
And in Hamlet : — 

' There's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life.' 
Icannot think that respect here means a respected per- 
son, as Johnson supposed ; or that it is intended for a. 
personification, as Malone asserts. 

12 i. e. ' spite of leaving me unanswered for a time.' - 
Goneril's messenger delivered letters, which they read 
notwithstanding Lear's messenger was yet kneeling" 
unanswered. 

13 Meiny, signifying & family household, or retinue of 
servants, is certainly from the French meinie, or as it 
was anciently written, mesnie ; which word is regarded 
by Do Cange as equivalent with mesonie or maisonie, 
from maison ; in modern French, menage. It does not 
appear that the Saxons used many for a family or 
household. 



408 



KING LEAR. 



Act II 



And meeting nere the other messenger, 
Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine 
(Being the very fellow that of late 
Display'd so saucily against your highness,) 
Having more man than wit about me, drew ;' 
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries : 
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 
The shame which here it suffers. 
Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fty 
that way. 2 
Fathers, that wear rags, 

Do make their children blind ; 
But fathers, that bear bags, 

Shall see their children kind. 
Fortune, that arrant whore, 
Ne'er turns the key to the poor. — 
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours 3 
for thy daughters, as thou can'st tell in a year. 
Lear.. O, how this mother 4 swells up toward my 
heart ! 
Hysterica passio ! down, thou climbing sorrow, 
Thy element's below ! — Where is this daughter ? 
Kent. With the earl, sir, here within. 
Lear. Follow me not ; 

Stay here. [Exit. 

Gent. Made you no more offence than what you 

speak of? 
Kent. None. 
How chance the king comes with so small a train ? 
Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for 
that question,, thou hadst well deserved it. . 
Kent. Wliy, fool ? 

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, s to teach 
thee there's no labouring in the winter. All that 
follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind 
men ; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can 
smell him that's stinking. 6 Let go thy hold, when a 
great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck 
with following it ; but the great one that goes up 
the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man 
gives thee better counsel, give me mine again : I 
would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool 
gives it.' 

That sir, which serves and seeks for gain, 

And follows but for form, 
Will pack, when it begins to rain, 

And leave thee in the storm. 
But I will tarry, the fool will stay, 

And let the wise man fly : 
The knave turns fool, that runs away ; 
The fool no knave, perdy. 



1 The personal pronoun, which is found in the pre- 
ceding-line, is understood before the word having, or 
before drew. The same license is taken by Shakspeare 
in other places. 

2 ' If this be their behaviour, the king's troubles are 
not yet at an end.' This speech is omitted in the quartos. 

3 A quibble between dolours and dollars. 

4 Lear affects to pass off the swelling of his heart, 
ready to burst with grief and indignation, for the disease 
called the mother, or hysterica passio, which, in the 

fioet's time, was not thought peculiar to women only. — 
t is probable that Shaksjienre had this suggested to 
him by a passage in Harsnefs Declaration of Popish 
Impostures, which he may have consulted in order to 
furnish out his character ol'Tom of Bedlam with demo- 
niacal gibberish. ' Ma. Maynie had a spice of the his- 
terica passio, as it seems, from his youth, he himself 
termes it the moother.' 1 It seems the priests persuaded 
him it was from the possession of the devil. ' The dis- 
ease I spake of was a spice of the mother , wherewith 
I had been troubled before my going into Fraunce ; 
whether I doe rightly term it the mother or no, I knowe 
not. A Scottish Doctor of Physic, then in Paris, called 
it, as I remember, virgitinim capitis. It riseth of a 
winde in the bottome of the belly, and proceeding with a 
great swelling, causeth a very painful collicke in the 
stomack, and an extraordinary giddines in the head.' 

5 ' Go to the ant, thou sluggard, (says Solomon,) learn 
her ways, and be wise ; which having no guide, over- 
seer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and 
gathereth her food in harvest.' If, says the fool, you 
lu.d been schooled by the ant, you would have known 
that the king's train," like that sagacious insect, prefer 
the summer of prosperity to the colder season of adver- 
sity, from which no profit can be derived ; and desert 



A'enr; Where learn'd you this, fool ? 

Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool. 

Re-enter Lear, with Gloster. 

Lear. Deny to speak with me ? They are sick ? 
they are weary? 
They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches; 
The images of revolt and flying off! 
Fetch me a better answer. 

Glo. My dear lord, 

You know the fiery quality of the duke ; 
How unremoveable and fix'd he is 
In his own course. 

Lear. Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion '— 
Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, 
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife. 

Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. 

Lear. Inform'd them ! Dost thou understand me, 
man ? 

Glo. Ay, my good lord. 

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ; the 
dear father 
Would with his daughter speak, commands her 
service : 

Are they inform'd of this ? Mv breath and 

blood !— 
Fiery? the fiery duke ?— Tell the hot duke, that — 
No, but not yet : — may be, he is not well : 
Infirmity doth still neglect all office, 
Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves, 
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body : I'll forbear ; 
And am fallen out with my more headier will, 
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit 
For the sound man. Death on my state ! where- 
fore [Loohing on Kent 
Should he sit here? This act persuades me, 
That this remotion of the duke and her 
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth : 
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them, 
Now, presently : bid them come forth and hear me, 
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum, 
Till it cry — Sleep to death. 3 

Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you. [Exit. 

Lear. O, me, my heart, my rising heart ! — but, 
down. 

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney 9 did to 
the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive ; she 
rapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, 



him whose 'mellow-hangings' have been all shaken 
down, and who by ' one winter's brush' has been left 
• open and bare for every storm that blows.' 

6 All men, hu; blind men, though they follow their 
noses, are led by their eyes ; and this class of mankind, 
seeing the king ruined, have all deserted him : with 
respect to the blind, who have nothing but their noses 
to guide them, they also fly equally from a king whose 
fortunes are declining ; for of the noses of blind men 
there is not one in twenty but can smell him who, being 
' muddy'd in fortune's mood, smells somewhat strong of 
her displeasure.' You need not therefore be surprised 
at Lear's coming with so small a train. 

7 ' One cannot too much commend the caution which 
our moral poet uses on all occasions to prevent his sen- 
timent from being perversely taken. So here, having 
given an ironical precept in commendation of perfidy 
and base desertion of the unfortunate, for fear it should 
be understood seriously, though delivered by his buf- 
foon or jester, he has the precaution to add this beauti- 
ful corrective, full of fine sense : — " I would have none 
but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it." ' Warbur- 
ton. 

8 The meaning of this passage seems to be, 'I'll beat 
the drum till it cries out — Let them awake no more ; let 
their present sleep be their last.' Somewhat similar 
occurs in Troilus and Cressida : — 

' the death tokens of it 

Cry no recovery.' 
Mason would read, ' death to sleep,' instead of ' sleep 
to death.' 

9 Bullokar, in his Expositor, lb!6, under the word 
Cocf.net/, says, ' It is sometimes taken for a child that 
is tenderly or wantonly brought up ; or for one that has 
been brought up in some great town, and knows nothing 
of the country fashion*. It is used also for a Londoner, 
or one born in or near the city, (as we say,) within she 
sound of Bow bell.' The etymology, (says Mr. Nares^* 



Scene II. 



KING LEAR 



409 



Down, wantons, down : 'Twas her brother, that in 
pure kindness to his horse, butter'd his hay. 

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and 
Servants. 

Lear. Good morrow to you both. 

Corn. Hail to your grace ! 

[Kent is set at liberty. 

Reg. I am glad to see your highness. 

Lear. Regan, I think you are ; I know what 
reason 
I have to think so : If thou should'st not be glad, 
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 
Sepulchring an adultress. — O, are you free ? 

[to Kent. 
Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan, 
Thy sister's naught : O, Regan, she hath tied 
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here, — 

[Points to his heart. 
I can scarce speak to thee : thou'lt not believe, 
Of how deprav'd a quality O, Regan! 

Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience ; I have hope, 
You less know how to value her desert, 
Than she to scant her duty. 1 

Lear. Say, how is that ? 

Reg. I cannot think, my sister in the least 
Would fail her obligation : If, sir, perchance, 
She have restrain' dthe riots of your followers, 
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, 
As clears her from all blame. 

Lear. My curses on her ! 

Reg. O, sir, you are old ; 

Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine : you should be rul'd, and led 
By some discretion, that discerns your state 
Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you, 
That to our sister you do make return ; 
Say, you have wrong'd her, sir. 2 

Lear. Ask her forgiveness ? 

Do you but mark how this becomes the house : s 
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old ; 
Age is unnecessary :* on my knees 1 beg, [Kneeling. 
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food. 

Reg. Good sir, no more ; these are unsightly 
tricks : 
Return you to my sister. 

Lear. Never, Regan : 

She hath abated me of half my train ; 



seems most probable, which derives it from cookery. — 
Le pays de cocagne,or coquaine, in old French, means 
a country of good cheer. Cocagna, in Italian, has the 
same meaning. Both might be derived from coquina. 
This famous country, if it could be found, is described 
as a region ' where the hills were made of sugar-candy, 
and the loaves ran down the hills, crying Come eat me.'' 
Some lines in Camden's Remaines seem to make coke- 
ney a name for London as well as its inhabitants. This 
Lubberland, as Florio calls it, seems to have been pro- 
verbial for the simplicity or gullibility of its inhabitants. 
A cockney and a ninny-hammer, or simpleton, were 
convertible terms. Thus Chaucer, in the Reve's 
Tale :— 

' I shall be holden a daffe or a cokeney.'' 
It may be observed that cockney is only a diminutive of 
cock ; a wanton child was so called as a less circum- 
locutory way of saying, my ' little cock,' or my bra-cock. 
Decker, in his Newes from Hell, 156S, says, ' 'Tis not 
our fault ; but our mothers, our cockering mothers, who 
for their labour made us to be called cockneys.'' In the 
passages cited from the Tournament of Tottenham, and 
Heywood, it literally means a little cock. The reader 
will find a curious article on the subject in Mr. Douce's 
Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 151. 

1 It is clear that the intended meaning of this passage 
is as Steevens observes : ' You less know how to value 
her desert, than she (knows) to scant her duty, i. e. 
to be leanting in it.' It is somewhat inaccurately 
expressed, Shakspeare having, as on some other 
occasions, perplexed himself by the word less. But all 
the verbiage of Malone was not necessary to lay this 
open. 

2 ' Say,' &c. This line and the following speech is 
omitted in the quartos. 

3 i. e. the order of families, duties of relation. So Sir 
Thomas Smith, in his Commonwealth of England, 
1G01 :— ' The house I call here, the man, the woman, 
theit children, their servants, bond and free.' . 

3 B 



Look'd black upon me : struck me with her tongue, 

Most serpent-like, upon the very heart : — 

All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall 

On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones, 

You taking airs, with lameness ! 

Corn. Fie, fie, fie ! 

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding 
Dames 
Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty, 
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, 
To fall 5 and blast ner pride ! 

Reg. O, the blest gods ! 

So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on. 

Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse ; 
Thy tender-hefted 6 nature shall not give 
Thee o'er to harshne.ss ; her eyes are fierce, but 

thine 
Do comfort, and not burn : 'Tis not in thee 
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 7 
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt 
Against my coming in : thou better know'st 
The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude ; 
Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 
Wherein I thee endow'd. 

Reg. Good sir, to the purpose. 

[ Trumpets within. 

Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks '/ 

Corn. What trumpet's that ? 

Enter Steward. 

Reg. I know't, my sister's ; 8 this approves her 
letter, 
That she would soon be here. — Is your lady come ? 

Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride 
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows : — 
Out, varlet, from my sight ! 

Corn. What means your grace ? 

Lear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I hav» 
good hope 
Thou didst not know oft. — Who comes here ? O, 
Heavens, 

Enter Goneril. 

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
Allow 9 obedience, if yourselves are old, 10 
Make it your cause: send down, and take my 
part ! — 



4 Unnecessary is here used in the sense of neces- 
sitous ; in want of necessaries and unable to procure 
them. Perhaps this is also the meaning of the word in 
The Old Law, by Massinger : — 

' Your laws extend not to desert, 

But to unnecessary years, and, my lord, 
His are not such.' 

5 Fall seems here to be used as an active verb, 
signifying to humble or pull down. ' Ye fen-suck'd 
fogs, drawn from the earth by the powerful action of the 
sun, infect her beauty, so as to fall and blast, i. e. hum- 
ble and destroy her pride.' 

6 Tender-hefted may mean moved, or heaving with 
tenderness. The quartos read tender-hested, which 
may be right, and signify giving tender bests or com- 
mands. Miranda says, in The Tempest : — 

'O my father, I have broke your best to say so.' 

7 A size is a portion or allotment of food. The word 
and its origin are explained in Minsheu's Guide to 
Tongues, 1617. The term sizer is still used at Cam- 
bridge for one of the lowest rank of students, living on 
a stated allowance. 

8 Thus in Othello :— 

'The Moor, — I know his trumpet.' 
It should seem therefore that the approach of great 
personages was announced by some distinguishing note 
or tune appropriately used by their own trumpeters. — 
Cornwall knows not the present sound ; but to Regan, 
who had often heard her sister's trumpet, the first 
flourish of it was as familiar as was that of the Moor to 
the ears of Iago. 

9 To allow is to approve, in old phraseology. Thus 
in Psalm xi. ver. 6 : — ' The Lord alloweth the righteous ' 

10 ' hoc oro, munus concede parenti, 

Si tua maturis signentur tempora canis, 

Et sis ipse parens.' Stalius Theb. x. 705 



410 



KING LEAR. 



Act IL 



Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ?— 

[To GoNERIL. 

0, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? 

Gon. Why not by the hand, sir ? How have I 
offended ? 
All's not offence, that indiscretion finds, 
And dotage terms so. 

Lear. O, sides, you are too tough ! 

Will you yet hold ! — How came my man i' the 
stocks ? 

Corn. I set him there, sir : but his own disorders 
Deserv'd much less advancement. 1 

Lear. You ! did you ? 

Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 2 
If, till the expiration of your month, 
You will return and sojourn with my sister, 
Dismissing half your train, come then to me ; 
I am now from home, and out of that provision 
Which shall be needful for your entertainment. 

Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd ? 
No, rather I adjure all roofs, and choose 
To wage* against the enmity o' the air ; 
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, — 
Necessity's sharp pinch ! 4 — Return with her? 
Why, the hot-blooded Fiance, that dowerless took 
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 
To knee his throne, and, squirelike, pension beg 
To keep base life afoot ; — Return with her ? 
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 5 
To this detested groom. [Looking on the Steward. 

Gon. At your choice, sir. 

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad ; 
I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell : 
We'll no more meet, no move see one another : — 
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter ; 
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, 
Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil, 
A plague-sore, an embossed 6 carbuncle, 
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee ; 
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: 
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : 
Mend, when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure : 
I can be patient ; I ran stay with Regan, 

1, and my hundred knights. 

Reg. Not altogether so, sir ; 

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided 
For your fit welcome : Give ear, sir, to my sister ; 
For those that mingle reason with your passion, 
Must be content to think you old, and so— 
But she knows what she does. 

Lear. Is this well spoken, now ? 

Reg. I dare avouch it, sir ; What, fifty followers ? 
Is it not well ? What should you need of more ? 
Yea, or so many ? sith that both charge and danger 
Speak 'gainst so great a number ? How, in one 

house, 
Should manv people, under two commands, 
Holdamitv? 'Tis hard ; almost impossible. 

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive at- 
tendance 
From those that she calls servants, or from mine ? 

Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chanc'd 
to slack you, 



We could control them : If you will come to me 
(For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you 
To bring but five and twenty ; to no more 
Will I give place or notice. 

I^ear. I gave you all 

Reg. And in good time you gave ft 

Lear. Made yot; my guardians, my depositaries ; 
But kept a reservation to be follovv'd 
With such a number ; What, must I come to you 
With five and twenty, Regan ? said you so ? 

Reg. And speak it again, my lord ■ no mora 
with me. 

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well 
favour'd, 
When others are more wicked ; not being the worst, 
Stands in some rank of praise :' — I'll go with thee ; 
[To GostuiL. 
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, 
And thou art twice her love. 

Gon. Hear me, my *ord ; 

What need you five and twenty, ten, or fiv_ 
To follow in a house, where twice so many 
Have a command to tend you? 

Reg. What need one? 

Lear. O, reason not the need : our basest begga <s 
Are'in the poorest thing superfluous : 
Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
Man's life is cheap 8 as beast's : thou art a lady j 
If only to go warm were gorgeous, 
Wliv* nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, 
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. — But, for true 

need, — 
You heavens give me that patience, patience I need' 
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 
As full of grief as age ; wretched in both! 
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 
Against their father, fool me not so much 
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger ! 
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops, 
Stain my man's cheeks ! — No, you unnatural hags, 
I will have such revenges on you both, 
That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 
What they are, yet I know not ; 3 but they shall be 
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep ; 
No, I'll not weep : — 

I have full' cause of weeping; but this heart 
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 10 
Or ere I'll weep : — O, fool, I shall go mad ! 

[Exeunt Lear, Gloster, Kent, and Fool. 
Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm. 

[Storm heard at a distance 
Reg. This house 

Is little ; the old man and his people cannot 
Be well bestow'd. 

Gon. 'Tis his own blame hath put 

Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly. 
Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, 
But not one follower. 

Gon. So am I purpos'd. 

Where is my lord of Gloster ? 



1 By less advancement Cornwall means that Kent's 
disorders had entitled him to a post of even less honour 
than the stocks, a still worse or more disgraceful 
situation. 

2 The meaning is, since you are weak, be content to 
think yourself weak. 

3 See p. 395, note 7, ante. 

4 The words, ' necessity's sharp pinch !' appear to be 
the reflection of Lear on the wretched sort of existence 
he had described in the preceding lines. 

5 Sumpter is generally united with horse or mule, to 
signify one that carried provisions or other necessaries ; 
from sumptus, Lat. In the present instance horse 
seems to be understood, as it appears to be in the follow- 
jng passage from Beaumont and Fletcher's Two Noble 
Gentlemen : — 

' I would have had you furnish'd in such pomp 

As never duke of Burgundy was furnish'd ; 

You should have had a sumpter, though 't had cost me 

The laying out myself.' 



Perhaps sumpter originally meant the pannier or basket 
which the sumpter-horse carried. Thus hi Cupid's 
Revenge : — 

' And thy base issue shall carry samplers.' 
We hear also of sinnpter-cloths^ sumpter-saddles, &c. 

6 Embossed here means swelling, protuberant. 

7 i. e. to be not the icorst deserves some praise. 

8 Jls cheap here means as little worth. See Barer 
Alvearie, 1573. C. 3S8. 

9 ' magnum est quodcunque paravi, 

Quid sit adhuc dubito.' Ovid. Met. lib. vi 

' haud quid sit scio, 

Sed grande quiddam est.' Seneca Thyestes 

Let such as are unwilling to allow that copiers of natur 
must occasionally use the same thoughts and expres 
sions, remember that of both these authors there were 
early translations. Golding thus renders the passage 
from Ovid :— 

' The thing that I do purpose on is great, whate'er it is 

I know not what it may be yer.' 

10 Flaws anciently signified fragments, as well as 
mere cracks. Among the Saxons it certainly had that 
meaning. The word, as Bailey observes, was ' espe- 
cially applied to the breaking off shivers or thin pieces 
from precious stones.' 



StEKE n. 



KING LEAR. 



411 



Re-enter Gt.oster. 
Corn. Follow'd the old man forth : — he is return'd. 
Glo. The king is in high rage. 
Corn. Whither is he going? 

Glo. He calls to horse ; but will I know not 

whither. 
Corn. 'Tis best to give him way ; he leads him- 
self. 
Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 
Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak 
winds 
Do sorely ruffle ;' for many miles about 
There's scarce a bush. 

Reg. O, sir, to wilful men, 

The injuries that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters : Shut up your doors ; 
He is attended with a desperate train : 
And what they may incense 2 him to, being apt 
To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear. 

Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord : 'tis a wild 
night ; 
My Regan counsels well ; come out o' the storm. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT III. 
SCENE I. A Heath. A Storm is heard, with 

Thunder and Lightning. Enter Kent, and a 

Gentleman, meeting. 

Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather? 

Gent. One minded like the weather, most tin- 
quietly. 

Kent. I know you; Where's the king? 

Gent. Contending with the fretful element : 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 5 
That things might change, or cease: 4 tears his 

white hair ; 
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: 
Strives in his little world of man to out- scorn 5 
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. 
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear 6 would 

couch, 
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, 
And bids what will take ay.' 

Kent. But who is with him ? 

Gent. None but the fool ; who labours to outjest 
His heart-struck injuries. 

Kent. Sir, I do know you ; 

And dare upon the warrant of my art, 3 



1 Thus the folio. The quartos read, ' Do sorely 
russel,' i. e. rustle. But ruffle is most probably the true 
reading. See the first note on Macbeth. 

2 To incense is here, as in other places, to instigate. 

3 The main seems to signify here the main land, the 
continent. The main is again used in this sense in 
Hamlet : — 

' Goes it against the ?nai?i of Poland, sir ?' 

4 The first folio ends this speech at ' change, or 
cease,' and begins again at Kent's speech, ' But who is 
with him ?' 

5 Steevens thinks that we should read, ' out-storm.'' 
The error of printing scorn for storm occurs in the old 
copies of Troilus and Cressida, and might easily hap- 
pen from the similarity of the words in old MSS. 

6 That is, a bear whose dugs are drawn dry by its 
young. Shakspeare has the same image in As You 
Like It :— 

' A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 

Lay couching ' 

Again, ibidem : — 

' Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness.' 

7 So in Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus says :- • 

'I'll strike, and cry, Take all.' 

8 i. e. on the strength of that art or skill which teaches 
US 'to find the mind's construction in the face.' The 
folio reads : — 

' upon the warrant of my note ;' 

which Dr. Johnson explains, ' my observation of your 
character.' 

9 This and seven following lines are not in the quar- 
tos. The lines in crotchets lower down, from ' But, true 
it is,' &c. to the end of the speech, are not in the folio. 



Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, 
Although as yet the face of it be cover'd 
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ; 
Who have (as who have not, that their great stars* 
Thron'd and set high ?) servants, who seem no less j 
Which are to France the spies and speculations 
Intelligent of our state ; what hath been seen, 
Either in snuffs and packings 10 of the dukes ; 
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne 
Against the old kind king ; or something deeper, 
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings : 1J — 

fBut, true it is, from France there comes a power 
nto this scatter'd kingdom; who already 
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet 12 
In some of our best ports, and are at point 
To show their open banner. — Now to you : 
If on my credit you dare build so far 
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 
Some that will thank you, making just report 
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
The king hath cause to plain. 
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding ; 
And from some knowledge and assurance, offer 
This office to you.] 

Gent. I will talk further with you. 
Kent. No, do not. 

For confirmation that I am much more 
Than my out wall, open this purse, and take 
What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia 
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring 
And she will tell you who your fellow 13 is 
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm 
I will go seek the king. 

Gent. Give me your hand : have you no more to 

say ? 
Kent. Few words, but to effect, more than all yet : 
That, when we have found the king, (in which your 

pain 

That way; I'll this;) he that first lights on him, 

Holla the other. [Exeunt severally. 

SCENE II. Another Part of the Heath. Storm 

continues. Enter Lear and Fool. 

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! 14 rage ! 

blow ! 
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout 
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the 

cocks ! 
You sulphurous and thought-executing 1 5 fires, 
Vaunt-couriers 10 to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, 
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, 
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, 17 
That make ingrateful man ! 



So that if the speech be read with omission of the for- 
mer, it will stand according to the first edition ; and if 
the former lines are read, and the latter omitted, it will 
then stand according to the second. The second edition 
is generally best, and was probably nearest to Shat 
speare's last copy : but in this speech the first is prefer 
able ; for in the folio the messenger is sent, he knows 
not why, he knows not whither. 

10 Snuffs are dislikes, and packings underhand coa 
trivances. 

11 A furnish anciently signified a sample. ' To lend 
the world a furnish of wit, she lays her own out to 
pawn.' — Green's Groats worth of Wit. 

12 i. e. secret footing. 13 Companion. 

14 The poet was here thinking of the common repre 
sentation of the winds in many books of his time. We 
find the same allusion in Troilus and Cressida. 

15 Thought-executing, 'doing execution with celerity 
equal to thought.' 

16 Jlvant-couriers, Fr. The phrase occurs in other wri- 
ters of Shakspeare's time. It originally meant the fore 
most scouts of an army. In Thte Tempest ' Jove's light- 
nings' are termed more familiarly, 

' the precursors 

O' the dreadful thunder-claps.' 

17 There is a parallel passage in the Winter's Tale : — 
' Let Nature crush the sides o' the earth together, 
And mar the seeds within.' 

So again in Macbeth: — 

' and the sum 

Of nature's germens tumble all together.' 
For the force of the word spill, see Genesis, xxxviii 9 



412 



KING LEAR. 



Act IL 



Foot. O. nuncie, court holy-water 1 in a dry house 
ts better than this rain-water out o' door. Good 
nuncie, in, and ask thy daughter's blessing ! Here's 
a night pities neither wise men nor fools. 

Lear. Rumble thy bellyful ! Spitfire! spout rain ! 
Nor rain. wind, thunder, fire are my daughters ; 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness, 
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, 
You owe me no subscription ; 2 why, then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man : — 
But yet I call you servile ministers, 
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd 
Your high engendered battles, 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. O ! O ! 'tis foul ! 

Fool. He that has a house to put his head in has 
a good head-piece. 

The cod-piece that will house, 

Before the head has any, 
27ie head and he shall louse ; — 

So beggars marry many. 
The man that makes his toe 

IVhal he Ids heart should make, 
Shall of a corn crt/ wo, 

And turn his sleev to wake. 
— For there was never yet fair woman, but she made 
mouths in a glass. 

Enter Kent. 

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience, 
I will say nothing. 

Kent. Who's there? 

Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece ; 3 
that's a wise man, and a fool. 

Kent. Alas, sir, are you here ? things that love 
night, 
Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies 
Gallow* the very wanderers of the dark, 
And make them keep their caves : Since I was man, 
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, 
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
Remember to have heard : man's nature cannotcarry 
The alHiction, nor the fear. 

Lear. Let the great gods, 

That keep this dreadful pother* o'er our heads, 
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, 
That hast within thee undivulged crime?, 
Unwhipp'd of justice : Hide thee, thou bloody hand ; 
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular* man of virtue 
That art incestuous : Caitiff, to pieces shake, 
That under covert ami convenient seeming, 
Hast practis'd on man's life ! — Close pent-up guilts, 
Rive your concealing continents,' and cry 
These dreadful siiminojiers grace." I am a man, 
More sinn'd against, than sinning. 

Kent. Alack, bare-headed ! 

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel ; 
Some friendship will it lend von 'gainst the tempest ; 
Repose you there : while I to this hard house, 
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd j 
Which even but now, demanding after you, 

1 Court '.holy -truti r is fair words and Mattering speech- 
es. ' Gonfiare aleuno, (says Florin.) to sooth or Hatter 
one, to set one agogge, or with fair words bring him into 
a foole's paradise ; to fill ofie with hopes, or court hotie- 
traltr.t It appears to have been borrowed from the 
French, who have their Eau benite de la cour in the 
same sense. 

2 i. e. submission, obedience. 

3 Meaning the king and himself. The king's grace 
was the usual expression in Shakspeare's time : per- 
haps the latter phrase alludes to the saving of a contem- 
porary wit, that there is no discretion below the girdle. 

4 To galTow. is to frighten, to scare. 

5 Thus the folio and one of the quartos ; the other 
quarto reads thund'ring. 

6 i. e. counterfeit ; from simulo, Lat. 

' My practices so prevail'd, 

That I retum'd with simular proof enough 
To make the noble Leonatus mad.' 

Cymbeline, Act v. Sc. 5. 

7 Continent for that whi'vh contains or encloses. 
Thus in Antony and Ci«.patra: — 

' Heart, once be stronger than thy continent.' 
The quartos read,— concealed centers. 



Denied me to come in,) return, and force 
Their scanted courtesy. 

Lear. My wits begin to turn,— 

Come on, my boy : How dost, my boy ? Art cold ? 
I am cold myself — Where is this straw, my fellow ? 
The art of our necessities is strange, 
That can make vilo things precious. Come, your 

hovel, 
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart 
That's sorry yet for thee. 9 

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit. — 

With a heigh, ho, the wind and the rain, — 

Must make content with his fortunes Jit ; 
For the rain it raineth every day. ' ° 

Lear. True, my good boy. — Come, bring us to 
this hovel. [Exeunt Lear and Kent 

Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan." 
— I'll speak a prophecy ere I go : 

When priests are more in word than matter ; 

When brewers mar their malt with water ; 

When nobles are their tailor's tutors ; 

No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors : 

When every case in law is right ; 

No squire in debt, nor no poor knight ; 

U hen slanders do not live in tongues; 

Nor cutpurses come not to throngs ; 

When usurers tell their gold i' the field ; 

And bawds and whores do churches build :— 

Then shall the realm of Albion 

Come to great confusion. 12 

Then comes the time, who lives to see't, 

That going shall be us'd with feet. 
This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before 
his time. [Exit. 

SCENE HI. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter 
Gloster and Edmund. 

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this un ■ 
natural dealing : When I desired their leave that 
I might pity nim, they took from me the use of 
mine own house ; charged me, on pain of their per- 
petual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat 
for him, nor any way sustain him. 

Edm. Most savage, and unnatural ! 

Glo. Go to ; say you nothing : There is division 
between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: 
I have received a letter this night ; — 'tis dangerous 
to be spoken : — I have locked the letter in my clo- 
set : these injuries the king now bears will be re- 
venged at home ; there is part of a power already 
footed: 13 we must incline to the king. I will seek 
him, and privily relieve him : go you, and maintain 
talk with the duke, that my charitv be not of him 
perceived : If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to 
bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, 
the king my old master must be relieved. There is 
some strange thing toward, Edmund : pray you, be 
careful. [Exit. 

Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke 
Instantly know ; and of that letter too : — 



8 Summoners are officers that summon offenders be- 
fore a proper tribunal. Ste Chaucer's Sompnour'3 
Tale, v. 625 — fi?0. Thus In Hotrard's Defensative 
u^ahisl. the Poison of supposed Prophecies, 1581 : — 
'They seem to brag most of the strange events which 
follow for the most part after blazing starres, as if they 
were the summoners of God, to call princes to the seat 
of judgment.' 

9 The quartos read, 'That sorrows yet for thee.' 

10 Part of the Clown's song at the end of Twelfth 
Night. 

11 This speech is not in the quartos. 

12 These lines are taken from what is commonly call- 
ed Chaucer's Prophecy ; but which is much older than 
his time iaits original form. It is thus quoted by Put 
tenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589 : — 

' When faith fails in priestes saws, 
And lords hests are holden for laws 
And robbery is tane for purchase, 
And letchery for solace, 
Then shall the realm of Albion 
Be brought to great confusion.' 

See the Works of Chaucer, in Whittingham's edi' ot. 

v. p. 179. 

13 The quartos read, landed. 



Scene IV. 



KING LEAR. 



41S 



fair deserving, and must draw me : — I Expose thyself to feci what wretches feel ; 
y father loses : no less than all : That thou'may'st shako the superflux to them, 



This seems a 

That which my 

The younger rises, when the old doth fall 



[Exit. 



SCENE IV. A Part of the Heath, with a Hovel. 
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 

Kent. Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, 
enter : 
The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
For nature to endure. [Storm still. 

Lear. Let me alone. 

Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 

.Lear. Wilt break my heart? 1 

Kent. I'd rather break mine own : Good my lord, 
enter. 

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious 
storm 
Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee ; 
But where the greater malady is fix'd, 
The lesser is scarce felt. 2 Thou'dst shun a bear : 
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, 
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the 

mind's free, 
The body's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude ! 
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand, 
For lifting food to't ? — But I will punish home :— 
No, I will weep no more. — In such a night 
To shut me out ! — Pour on ; I will endure : 3 — 
In such a night as this ! O, Regan, Goneril ! — 
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave you all — 
O, that wav madness lies ; let me shun that ; 
No more of that, 

Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 

Lear. 'Pr'ythee, go in thyself ; seek thine own 
ease ; 
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
On things would hurt me more. — But I'll go in : 
In, boy: go first.— [To the Fool.] You houseless 4 

poverty, — 
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. — 

[Fool goes in. 
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, 5 defend you 
From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en 
Too little care of this ; Take physic, pomp ; 



And show the heavens more just. 6 

Edg. [Within.] Fathom and half, fathom and 
naif ! Poor Tom V 

[ The Fool runs out from the Hovel. 
Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. 
Help me, help me ! 

Kent. Give me thy hand. — Who's there ? 
Fool. A spirit, a spirit ; he says his name's poor 

Tom. 
Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there 
i' the straw ? 
Come forth. 

Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman. 
Edg. Away ! the foul fiend follows me : — 
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.- 
Humph ! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 8 

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters ? 
And art thou come to this ? 

Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom ? whom 
the foul fiend hath led through fire and through 
flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and 
quagmire, 9 that hath laid knives under his pillow, 
and halters in his pew ; set ratsbane by his por- 
ridge ; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay 
trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course 
his own shadow for a traitor : — Bless thy five wits! 10 
Tom's a-cold. — O, do de, do de, do de.— Bless thee 
from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking !■ ! Do 
poor Tom some charity, whom "the foul fiend vexes r 
There could I have him now, — and there,— and 
there, and there again, and theTe. [Storm continues. 
Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to 
this pass ? — 
Could'st thou save nothing ? Did'st thou give them 
all? 
Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had 
been all ashamed. 

Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous 
air 
Hang fated o'er men's faults, 1 2 light on thy daughters I 
Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. 
Lear. Death, traitor ! nothing could have subdu'd 
nature 
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. — 
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers 
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ? 
Judicious punishment ! 'twas this flesh begot 
Those pelican daughters. 13 



1 Steevens thought that Lear does not address this 
question to Kent, "but to his own bosom ; and would 
point the passage thus : — 

f Wilt break, my heart?' 

•Taking the words of Lear by themselves (says Mr- 
Eye), the sense and punctuation proposed by Steevens 
is v ry judicious ; but is confuted by what Kent answers, 
wtu must know how Lear spoke it ; and there seems no 
sort of reason why, as is suggested, he should affect to 
misunderstand him. Nothing is more natural than for a 
person absorbed in the contemplation of his own misery, 
to answer offers of assistance that interrupt him, with 
petulance.' 

2 That of two concomitant pains, the greater obscures 
[to relieves the less, is an aphorism of Hippocrates. See 
Disquisitions Metaphysical and Literary, by F Sayers, 
pVl.D. 1793, p. 68. 

' He lesser pang3 can bear who hath endur'd the chief.' 
Faerie Queene, b. i. c. 6. 

3 This line is omitted in the quartos. 

4 This and the next line are only in the folio. They 
are very judiciously intended to represent that humility, 
or tenderness, or neglect of forms which affliction forces 
on the mind. 

5 Loop'd and window , d is full ofholes and apertures : 
the allusion is to loop-holes, such as are found in ancient 
castles, and designed for the admission of light, where 
windows would have been incommodious. 

6 A kindred thought occurs in Pericles : — 
' O, let those cities that of Plenty's cup 
And her prosperities so largely taste, 

With their superfluous riots,— hear these tears ; 
The misery of Tharsus may be theirs.' 

7 This speech of Edgar's is omitted in the quartos. — 
He gives the sign used by those who are sounding the 
depth at sea 



8 So in the Induction to the Taming of the Shrew, 
Sly says, ' Go to thy cold bed and warm thee ;' which 
is supposed to he in' ridicule of The Spanish Tragedy, 
or some play equally absurd. The word cold is omitted 
in the folio. 

9 Alluding to the ignis fatuus, supposed to be lights 
kindled by mischievous beings to lead travellers into 
destruction. He afterwards recounts the temptations by 
which he was prompted to suicide ; the opportunities of 
destroying himself, which often occurred to him in hia 
melancholy moods. Infernal spirits are always repre- 
sented as urging the wretched to self-destruction. So 
in Dr. Faustus, 1604 :— 

' Swords, poisons, halters, and envenom'd steel, 
Are laid before me to despatch myself.' 

Shakspeare found this charge against the fiend in Hars. 

net's Declaration, 1603, before cited. 

10 It has been before observed, that the wits seem to 
have been reckoned five by analogy to the five senses. 
They were sometimes confounded by old writers, as in 
the instance cited bv Percy and Steevens ; Shakspeare, 
however, in his 141st Sonnet, considers them as dis- 
tinct. 

' But my five wits nor my five senses can 
Dissuade one foolish heart'from serving thee.' 

11 To take is to blast, or strike with malignant in- 
fluence. See a former passage : — 

' strike her young bones, 

Ye taking airs, with lameness.' 

12 So in Timon of Athens :— 

' Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 

Will o'er some high view'd city hang his poison 

In the sick air.' 

13 The young pelican is fabled to suck the mother's) 
blood. The allusions to this fable are very numerous 
in old writers. 



414 



KING LEAR. 



Act III. 



Edg. Pillicock 1 sat on pillicock's-hill ; — 
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo ! 

Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and 
madmen. 

Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend : Obey thy pa- 
rents ; keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit 
not with man's sworn spouse ; set not thy sweet- 
heart on proud array ; Tom's a-cold. 

I*ear. What hast thou been '! 

Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind ; 
that curled my hair ; 2 wore gloves in my cap ; 3 
served the, lust of my mistress's heart, and did the 
act of darkness with her ; swore as many oaths as 
I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of 
heaven : one, that slept in the contriving of lust, 
and waked to do it : Wine loved I deeply ; dice 
dearly ; and in woman, out-paramoured the Turk : 
False of heart, light of ear, 4 bloody of hand ; Hog 
in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in 
madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of 
shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor 
heart to women. Keep thy foot out of brothels, 
thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' 
books,' and defy the foul fiend. — Still through the 
hawthorn blows the cold wind : Says suum, mun, 
ha no nonny, dorphin my boy, my boy, sessa : let 
him trot by. 6 [Storm still continues. 

Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, than 
to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity 
of the skies. — Is man no more than this ? Consider 
him well : Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast 
no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume : — 
Ha ! here's three of us are sophisticated ! — Thou 



1 It should be observed that Killico is one of the 
devils mentioned in Harsnet's book. The inquisitive 
reader may find a further explanation of this word in a 
note to the translation of Rabelais, edit. 1750, vol. i. p. 
194. In Minsheu's Dictionary, art. 9299 ; and Chal- 
mers's Works of Sir David Lindsay, Glossary, v. 
villok. 

■2 ' Then Ma. Mainy, by the instigation of the first of 
the seven, [spirits,] began to set his hands unto his side, 
cuiled his hair, and used such gestures as Ma. Ed- 
munds [the exorcist] presently affirmed that that spirit 
was Pride. Herewith he began to curse and banne, 
saying, What a poxe do I here ? I will stay no longer 
among a company of rascal priests, but go to the court, 
and brave it amongst my fellows, the noblemen there 

assembled.' ' Shortly after they [the seven spirits] 

were all cast forth, and in such manner as Ma. Ed- 
munds directed them, which was, that every devil should 
depart in some certaine forme, representing either a 
beast or some other creature that had the resemblance 
of that sinne whereof he was the chief author : where- 
upon the spirit of Pride departed in the forme of a 
peacock ; the spirit of Sloth in the likeness of an asse ; 
the spirit of Enrie in the similitude of a do g ; the spirit 
of Gluttony in the form of a woife ; and the other devils 
had also in their departure their particular likenesses 
agreeable to their natures.' — Harsnet's Declaration, 
&.C. 1603. Before each sin was cast out, Mainy, by ges- 
tures acted that particular sin — curling his hair, to" show 
pride, &c. &c. 

3 It was anciently the custom to wear gloves in the 
hat on three distinct occasions, viz. as the favour of a 
mistress, the memorial of a friend, and as a mark to be 
challenged by an enemy. Prince Henry boasts that he 
will pluck a glove from {he commonest creature and 
wear it in his helmet. And Tucca says to Sir Quinti- 
lian, in Deoker's Satiromastix :— ' Thou shalt wear her 
glove in thy worshipful hat, like to a leather brooch.' 
And Pandora in Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1597: — 

' he that first presents me with his head 

Shall wear my glove in favour of the dead.' 
Portia, in her assumed character, asks Bassanio for his 
gloves, which she says she will wear for his sake ; and 
King Henry V. gives the pretended glove of Aleneon to 
Fluellen, which afterwards occasions his quarrel with 
the English soldier. 

4 Credulous of evil, ready to receive malicious re- 
ports. 

5 When spendthrifts, &c. resorted to usurers or trades- 
men for the purpose of raising money by means of 
ehop goods, or brown paper commodities, they usually 
entered their promissory notes, or other similar obliga- 
tiosis, in books kept for that purpose. In Lodge's Look- 
ing Glasse for England, 1598, 4to. a usurer says to a 
gentleman, ' I have thy hand set to my book, that thou 
received'st forty pounds of me in monie.' To which 



art the thing itself: — unaccommodated man is no 
more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou 
art. — Off, off, you lendings : — Come ; unbutton 
here.' [Tearing off his Clothes. 

Fool. 'Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented ; this is a 
naughty 8 night to swim in. — Now a little fire in a 
wild field were like an old lecher's heart ; a small 
spark, all the rest of his body cold. — Look, here 
comes a walking fire. 

Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet : 9 he 
begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock ; he 
gives the web and the pin, 10 squints the eye, and 
makes the hare-lip ; mildews the white wheat, and 
hurts the p^oor creature of earth. 

Saint VVithold footed thrice the wold ;' • 
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold; 
Bid her alight, 
And her troth plight, 
And, Aroint thee, witch, aroint thee ." 2 
Kent. How fares your grace ? 

Enter Gloster, with a Torch. 

Lear. What's he ? 

Kent. Who's there ? What is't you seek ? 

Glo. What are you there ? Your names ? 

Edg. Poor Tom ; that eats the swimming frog 
the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water ;** 
that in the fury of the heart, when the foul fieno 
rages, eats cow-dung for sallets ; swallows the oM 



the other answers, ' It was your device to colour th* 
statute, but jour conscience knows what I had.' 
1 If I but write my name in mercers' 1 books, 
I am as sure to have at six months end 
A rascal at my elbow with his mace,' &c. 

All Fools, by Chapman, 1605. 
6 ' Dolphin my boy, my boy, 

Cease, let him trot by ; 
It seemeth not that such a foe 
From me or you would fly.' 
This is a stanza from a very old ballad, written on soma 
battle fought in France ; during which the king, unwil- 
ling to put the suspected valour of his son the Dauphin 
to the trial, therefore, as different champions cross the 
field, the king always discovers some objection to hia 
attacking each of them, and repeats the two first lines 
as every fresh personage is introduced ; and at last 
assists in propping up a dead body against a tree for 
him to try his manhood upon. Steevens had this ac 
count from an old gentleman, who was only able to 
report part of the ballad, rh Jonsnn's Bartholomew 
Fair, Cokes cries out, ' God's my life ! He shall be 
Dauphin, my boy !' ' Hey nonny, nonny' is merely the 
burthen of another ballad. 

7 The words unbutton here, are only in the folio. 
The quartos read, Come on, be true. 

8 Naughty signifies bad, unfit, improper. This epi- 
thet, which, as it stands here, excites a smile, in the age 
of Shakspeare was employed on serious occasions 
The merriment of the Fool depended on his general 
image, and not on the quaintness of its auxiliary. 

9 The name of this fiend, though so grotesque, was 
not invented by Shakspeare, but by those who wished 
to impose upon their hearers the belief of his actual ex- 
istence : this, and most of the fiends mentioned by Ed- 
gar, being to be found in Bishop Harsnet's book, among 
those which the Jesuits, about the time of the Spanish 
invasion, pretended to cast out, for the purpose of making 
converts. The principal scene of this farce was laid in 
the family of Mr. Edmund Peckham, a Catholic. Hars- 
net published his account of the detection of the impos- 
ture, by order of the privy council. ' Frateretlo, Fli- 
berdigibet, Hoberdidance, Tocobalto, were four devils 
of the round or morrice. — These four had forty assist- 
ants under them, as themselves doe confesse. Fleber- 
gibbe is used by Latimer for a sycophant. And Cot- 
grave explains Coquette by a Flebergibet or Titifill.' 

It was an old tradition that spirits were relieved from 
the confinement in which they were held during the day, 
at the time of curfew, that is, at the close of the day, and 
were permitted to wander at large till the first cock- 
crowing. Hence, in The Tempest, they are said to 're- 
joice to hear the solemn curfew.' 

10 The pin and web is a disease of the eyes resem- 
bling the cataract in an imperfect stage. Acerbi, in his 
Travels, vol. ii. p. 20, has given the Lapland method of 
cure. 

11 About St. Withold we have no certainty. This ad- 
venture is not found in the common legends of St. Vita 
lis, whom Mr. Tyrwhitt thought was meant. 

12 See Macbeth. 13 i. e. and the water-newt. 



Scene VI. 



KING LEAR. 



415 



rat, and the ditch-dog ; drinks the green mantle of 
the standing pool ; who is whipped from tything to 
tything, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; 
who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to 
his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear, — 
But mice and rats, and such small deer, 
Have been Tom 's food for seven Ion/; year. 1 
Beware my follower : Peace, Smolkin ;' 2 peace, 
thou fiend ! 

G!o. What, hath your grace no better company ? 

Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman ; 
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. 2 

Glo. Our flesh, and blood, my lord, is grown so vile, 
That it doth hate what gets it. 

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. 

Glo. Go in with rne ; my duty cannot suffer 
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands : 
Though their injunction he to bar my doors, 
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, 
Yet have I ventur'd to come to seek you out, 
And bring you where both fire and food is ready. 

Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher : — 
What is the cause of thunder ? 

Kent. Good my lord, take his offer ; 
Go into the house. 

Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned 
Theban : 
What is your study ? 

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. 

Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. 

Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord, 
His wits begin to unsettle. 3 

Glo. Canst thou blame him ? 

His daughters seek his death : — Ah, that good 

Kent!— 
He said it would be thus : — Poor banish'd man ! — 
Thou say'st, the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee, 

friend, 
I am almost mad myself; I had a son, 
Now outlaw'd from my blood ; he sought my life, 
But lately, very late ; I lov'd him, friend, — 
No father his son dearer : true to tell thee, 

[Storm continues. 
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this ! 
I do beseech your grace, 

I^ear. O, cry you mercy, 

Noble philosopher, your company. 

Edg. Tom's a-cold. 

Glo. In, fellow, there, to the hovel ; keep thee 
warm. 

Lear. Come, let's in all. 

Kent. This way, my lord. 



1 In the metrical Romance of Sir Bevis, who was 
Confined seven years in a dungeon, it is said that — 

' Rattes and mice, and such smal dere, 
Was his meat that seven yere.' 

2 ' The names of other punie spirits cast out of Twy- 
ford, were these : — Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio,' &c. — Hars- 
net's Detection, &c. p. 49. Again, ' Maho was the chief 
devil that had possession of Sarah Williams ; but ano- 
ther of the possessed named Richard Mainy, was mo- 
lested by a still more considerable fiend, called Modu,' 
p. 268 ; where the said Richard Mainy deposes : — ' Fur- 
thermore it is pretended, that there remaineth still in 
mee the prince of devils, whose name should be Modus 
And, p. 269 : — ' When the said priests had despatched 
their business at Hackney, (where they had been exor- 
cising Sarah Williams,) they then returned towards 
mee, upon pretence to cast the great prince Modu out 
of mee.' 

In the Goblins, by Sir John Suckling, a catch is in- 
troduced, which concludes with these two lines : — 
' The prince of darkness is a gentleman ; 
Mahu, Malm is his name.' 
This catch may not be the production of Suckling, but 
the original referred to by Edgar's speech. 

3 Lord Orford ha3 the following remark in the post- 
script to his Mysterious Mother, which deserves a place 
here : — ' When Belvidera talks of lutes, laurels, seas 
of milk, and ships of amber, she is not mad, but light' 
headed. When madness has taken possession of a per< 
eon, such character ceases to be fit for the stage, or at 
least should appear there but for a short time ; it being 
the business of the theatre to exhibit passions, not 
distempers. The finest picture ever drawn of a head 
discomposed by misfortune is that of King Lear. His 



Lear. With him ; 
I will keep still with my philosopher. 
Kent. Good my lord, sooth him ; let him taka 

the fellow. 
Glo. Take him you on. 
Kent. Sirrah, come on ; go along with us. 
Lear. Come, good Athenian. 
Glo. No words, no words : 

Hush. 

Edg. Child Rowland 4 to the dark tower came, 

His word was still, — Fie, foh, and fum, 

I smell the blood of a British man. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter 
Cornwall and Edmund. 

Corn. I will have my revenge, ere I depart thia 
house. 

Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that 
nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears 
me to think of. 

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your 
brother's evil disposition made him seek his dealh ; 
but a provoking merit, 5 set a-work by a reproveable 
badness in himself. 

Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must 
repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, 
which approves him an intelligent party to the ad- 
vantages of France. O, heavens ! that this treason 
were not, or not I the detector ! 

Corn. Go with me to the duchess. 

Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you 
have mighty business in hand. 

Corn. True, or false, it hath made thee earl of 
Gloster. Seek out where thy father is, that he may 
be ready for our apprehension. 

Edm. [Aside.] If I find him comforting the king, 
it will stuff his suspicion more fully. — I will perse- 
vere in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be 
sore between that and my blood. 

. Corn. I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shall 
find a dearer father in thy love. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. A Chamber in a Farm-House, ad- 
joining the Castle. Enter Gloster, Lear, 
Kent, Fool, and Edgar. 

Glo. Here is better than the open air ; take it 
thankfully : I will piece out the comfort with what 
addition I can : I will not be long from you. 

Kent. All the power of his wits has given way 
to his impatience : — The gods reward your kind- 
ness ! [Exit Gloster. 

Edg. Frateretto 6 calls me ; and tells me Nero is 



thoughts dwell on the ingratitude of his daughters, and 
every sentence that falls from his wildness excites re- 
flection and pity. Had frenzy entirely seized him, our 
compassion would abate ; we should conclude that he no 
longer felt unhappiness. Shakspeare wrote as a philo- 
sopher, Otway as a poet.' 

4 Capel observes that Child Rowland means the 
Knight Orlando. He would read come, with the quar- 
tos absolutely {Orlando being come to the dark tower) , 
and supposes a line to be lost ' which spoke of some 
giant, the inhabitant of that tower, and the smeller-out 
of Child Rowland, who comes to encounter him.' Ha 
proposes to fill up the passage thus : — 

' Child Rowland to the dark tower come, 
[The giant roared, and out he ran ;~\ 
His word was still,' &.c. 
Part of this is to be found in the second part of Jack and 
the Giants, which, if not as old as the time of Shak- 
speare, may have been compiled from something that 
was so : they are uttered by a giant : — 

' Fee, faw, fum, 

I smell the blood of an Englishman, 

Be he alive, or be he dead, 

I'll grind his bones to make my bread.' 

5 Cornwall seems to mean the merit of Edmund, 
which, being noticed by Gloster, provoked or instigated 
Edgar to seek his father's death. 

6 See the quotation from Harsnet, in note 2 on the 
preceding scene. Rabelais says that Nero was a fiddler 
in hell, and Trajan an angler. The history of Gara- 
gantua had appeared in English before 1575, being 
mentioned in Laneham's Letter from Killingworth, 

, printed in that year. 



416 



KING LEAR. 



Act IV 



an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, 1 
ana beware the foul fiend. 

Fool. 'Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a mad- 
man be a gentleman, or a yeoman ? 

Lear. A king, a king ! 

Fool. No ; he's a yeoman, that has a gentleman 
to his son ; for he's a mad yeoman, that sees his 
son a gentleman before him. 

Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits 
Come hissing 2 in upon them : 

Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.' 

Fool. He's mad, that trusts in the tameness of a 
wolf, a horse's heels, 4 a boy's love, or a whore's 
oath. 

Leur. It shall be done, I will arraign them straight : 

Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer : 5 

[To Edgar. 
Thou, sapient sir, sit here. [To the Fool.] — Now, 

£ou she foxes ! — 
ook, where he stands and glares ! — 
Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam ?° 

Come o'er the bourn, 7 Bessy to me : — 
Fool. Her boat hath a leak. 

And she must not speak 
JVhy she dares not come over to thee. 
Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the 
voice of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's 
belly 8 for two white herrings. Croak not, black 
angel ; I have no food for thee. 

Kent. How do you, sir ? Stand you not so amaz- 
ed : Will vou lie down and rest upon the cushions? 
Lear. I'll see their trial first : — Bring in the evi- 
dence — 
Thou robed man of justice, take thy place ; 

[To Edgar. 
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, [To the Fool. 
Bench by his side : — You are of the commission, 
Sit you too. [To Kent. 



1 Perhaps he is here addressing the Fool. Fools 
were anciently termed innocents. So in All's Well 
that Ends We'll, Act iv. Be 3:— 'The sheriff's fool— a 
dumb innocent, that could not say him nay.' 

2 The old copies have Mziing. which Mnlone 
chaneed to whizzing. One of the quartos spells the 
trot A his Xing, which indicates that the reading of the 
present text is right. 

3 This and the next thirteen speeches are only in the 
quartos. 

4 The old copies read, ' a horse's health ;' but heels 
was certainly meant. '■Trust not a horse's heels, nor 
a dog's tooth,'' is a proverb in Ray's Collection ; which 
may be traced at least as far hark as the time of our 
Edward II. 'Kt ideo Bahio in comcediis insinuat 
dicenS; — In fide, dente, jude, mulieris, equi canis est 
fraus. — Hoc sic vulgaritcr est dici : — 

'Till horsis fote thmi never traist. 
Till hondis toth, ne woman's faith.' 

Forduni Bcotichronicon, 1. xiv. c. 32. 
The proverb in the text is probably from the Italian. 

5 Justicer from Jasticiaras, was the old term, as we 
learn from Lambard's Eirenarcha: — 'And of this it 
commeth that M. Fitzherbert, (in his Treatise of the 
Justices of Peace,) calleth them justicers (contraclly for 
justiciars,) and not justices, as we commonly and not 
altogether improperly doe name them.' 

6 when Edgar says, 'Look, where he stands and 
glares !' he seems to be speaking in the character of a 
madman, who thinks he sees the fiend. 'Wantest thou 
eyes at a trial, madam ?' is a question addressed to some 
visionary spectator, and may mean no more than ' Do 
you want eyes when you should use them most ? that 
you cannot see this spectre.' 

7 A bourn is a brook or rivulet. At the beginning 
of A Very Merry ami Pvthie Cnmedie, called The 
Longer Thou Livest The 'More Fool Thou Art, &c. 
blk. let. no date :— ' Entreth Mores, counterfaiting 
a vain gesture and foolish countenance, synging the 
foote of many songs, as fooles were wont ;' and 
among them is this passage : — 

' Com over the boorne Bess6, 

My litle pretie Bess6, 

Come over the boorne, Bessi, to me.' 
The old copies read, 'o'er the broome ;' and Johnson 
suggested, as there was no connexion between a boat 
and a broom, that it was an error. Steevens made the 
Correction, and adduced this illustration. There is 
peculiar propriety in this address: Bessy and poor Tom 
usually travelled together, as appears by a oassage cited 



Edg. Let us deal justly. 

Sleepest, or wdkest thou, jolly shepherd 7 

Thy sheep be in the corn ; 
And for one blast of thy minikin 3 mouth, 
Thy sheep shall take no harm. 
Pur ! the cat is gray. 

Lear. Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here 
take my oath before this honourable assembly, she 
kicked the poor king her father. 

Fool. Come hither, mistress ; Is your name Go- 
neril ? 

Lear. She cannot deny it. 

Fool. Cry you mercy, I tookyoufor a jointstool. 1 
Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd looks 
proclaim 
What store her heart is made of. — Stop her there ! 
Arms, arms, sword, fire! — Corruption in the place ! 
False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape? 
Edg. Bless thy five wits! 

Kent. O, pity ! — Sir, where is the patience now, 
That you so oft have boasted to retain ? 

Edg. My tears begin to take his part so much. 
They'll mar my counterfeiting. [Aside. 

Lear. The little dogs and all, 
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at 
me. 
Edg. Tom will throw his head at them: — 
Avaunt, you curs ! 

Be thy mouth or black or white, 
Tooth that poisons if it bite ; 
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, 
Hound, or spaniel, brach, or lym ; u 
Or bobtail tike, 12 or trundle-tail ; 
Tom will make them weep and wail : 
For, with throwing thus my head, 
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. 
Do de, de de. Sessa. 13 Come, march to wakes 
and fairs, and market towns : — Poor Tom, thy horn 
is dry, 1 * 



from Dick Whippet** Sessions, 1007, by Malone. Mad 
women, who travel about the country, are called in 
Shropshire Cousin Jiilliis, and elsewhere Mail Bcssies 

8 Much of thismay have been sn: t tedbyHareuet'l 
book. Sarah Williams deposeth. 'That if at any time 
she did belch, as often times he did by reason that shee 
was troubled with a wind in her stomacke, the priests 
would say at such times, thai then the spirit began to 
rise in her... .and that the wind was the devil.' ' And, 
(as she saith.) if they heard any croaking in her belly... 
then they would make a wonderful matter of that.' — 
Hoberdidance is mentioned in a former note. ' One 
time shee remembereth that, slice having the said 
croaking in her belly, they said it was the dtvil that was 
about the bed, that spake with the voice of a toad,'' 
p. 194, 195, &c. 

9 Minikin was anciently a term of endearment. — 
Baret, in his AlveaTie, interprets feat by 'proper, well 
fashioned, minikin, handsome.' 

10 This proverbial expression occurs likewise in 
Lyly*s Mother Bombie, 1394. 

11 I suspect that brach signifies a greyhound. A bjm 
or lyme was a blood-hound, (see Minsheu's Diet, in 
voce ;) sometimes also called a limmer or learner ; from 
the learn or leash, in which he was held till he was 
let slip. In the book of Ancient Tenures, by T. B. 1679, 
the words ' canes domini regis lesos,' are translated 
leash hounds, such as draw after hurt deer in a leash 
or let/am. So Drayton, in The Muses Elysium : — 

' My doghook at my belt, to which my lyam's ty'd.' 

12 Tijk is the Runic word for a little wort+iless dog. 
Trindletails are mentioned in the Booke of Huntyng, 
&c. blk. let. no date ; and in the old comedy of A 
Woman Kill'd with Kindness. 

13 Srssa ; this word occurs before in the fourth Scene 
of this Act. It is spelled Sessey in both places in the 
old copv. The same word occurs in the Induction to 
the Tamins of the Shrew, where it is spelled sessa : it ap- 
pears to have been a corruption of cessez, stop or hold, 
be quiet, have done. 

14 A horn was usually carried about by every Tom of 
Bedlam, to receive such drink as the charitable might 
afford him, with whatever scraps of food they might 
give him. When, therefore, Edgar says his horn is 
dry or empty, he merely means, in the language of the 
character he assumes, to supplicate that it might be 
filled with drink. See A Pleasant Dispute between a 
Coach and a Sedan, 4to. 1636 :— ' I have observed when 
a coach is appendant but two or three hundred pounda 



Scene VII. 



KING LEAR. 



417 



Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan, see what 
breeds about her heart : Is there any cause in na- 
ture, that makes these hard hearts ? — You, sir, I 
entertain you for one of my hundred ; only I do not 
like the fashion of your garments ; you will say, 
they are Persian attire ! but let them be changed. 

[To Edgar. 

Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and rest 
awhile. 1 

Lear. Make no noise, make no noise ; draw the 
curtains: So, so, so: We'll go to supper i' the 
morning : So, so, so. 

Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon. 

Re-enter Gloster. 

Glo. Come hither, friend : Where is the king my 
' master ? 

Kent. Here, sir ; but trouble him not, his wits 
are gone. 

Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy 
arms ; 
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him : 
There is a litter ready ; lay him in't, 
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt 

meet 
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master : 
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life, 
With thine, and all that offer to defend him, 
Stand m assured loss : Take up, take up ; 2 
And follow me, that will to some provision 
Give thee quick conduct. 

[Kent. Oppress'd nature sleeps : 3 — 

This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, 
Which, if convenience will not allow, 
Stand in hard cure. — Come, help to bear thy master ; 
Thou must not stay behind. [To the Fool. 

Glo. Come, come, away. 

[Exeunt Kent, Gloster, and the Fool, 
bearing off" the King. 

Edg. When we our betters see bearing our woes, 
We scarcely think our miseries our foes. 
Who alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind ; 
Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind : 
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip, 
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. 
How light and portable my pain seems now, 
When that, which makes me bend, makes the king 

bow ; 
He childed, as I father'd ! — Tom, away : 
Mark the high noises, 4 and thyself bewray, 6 
When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles 

thee, 
In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee. 
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king ! 
Lurk, lurk.] [Exit. 

SCENE VII. A Room in Gloster's Castle. En- 
ter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, 

and Servants. 

Corn. Post speedily to my lord your husband ; 
show him this letter ; — the army of France is land- 
ed : — Seek out the villain Gloster. 

[Exeunt some of the Servants. 

Reg. Hang him instantly. 



a yeere, uiarke it, the dogges are as leane as Jakes ; 
you may tell all their ribbes lying be the fire ; and Tom 
a Bedlammay sooner eate his home than get it filled 
with small drink r, and for his old almes of bacon there 
is no hope in the world.' 

1 i. e. on the cushions to which he points. 

2 One of the quartos reads, ' Take up the king ;' the 
other, ' Take up to keep,'' &c. 

3 'These two concluding speeches, by Kent and 
Edgar, are restored from the quarto. The soliloquy of 
Edgar is extremely fine ; and the sentiments of. it are 
drawn equally from nature and the subject. Besides, 
with regard to the stage, it is absolutely neces- 
sary ; for as Edgar is not designed, in the constitution of 
the play, to attend the king to Dover, how absurd would 
it look for a character of his importance to quit the 
scene without one word said, or the least intimation 
what we are to expect from him.' — Theobald. 

4 The great events that are approaching, the loud 
tumult of approaching war. 

5 Betray, discover 

60 



Gon. Pluck out his eyes. 

Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, 
keep you our sister company ; the revenges we are 
bound to take upon your traitorous father, are not 
fit for your beholding. Advise the duke, where 
you are going, to a most festinate preparation ; we 
are bound to the like. Our post shall be swift, and 
intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister ; — 
farewell, my lord of Gloster. 6 

Enter Steward. 
How now? Where's the king? 

Stew. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence. 
Some five or six and thirty of his knights, 
Hot questrists 7 after him, met him at gate ; 
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants, 
Are gone with him towards Dover ; where they boast 
To have well armed friends. 

Corn. Get horses for your mistress. 

Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 

[Exeunt Goneril and Edmund. 
Corn. Edmund, farewell. — Go, seek the traitor 
Gloster, 
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. 

[Exeunt other Servants. 
Though well we may not pass upon his life 
Without the form of justice ; yet our power 
Shall do a courtesy 8 to our wrath, which men 
May blame, but not control. Who's there ? The 
traitor ? 

Re-enter Servants, with Gloster. 

Reg. Ingrateful fox ! 'tis he. 

Corn. Bind fast his corky 9 arms. 

Glo. What mean your graces ? — Good my friends, 
consider 
You are my guests : do me no foul play, friends. 

Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him. 

Reg. Hard, hard : — O, filthy traitor 

Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none. 

Corn. To this chair bind him : — Villain, thorn 
shalt find [Regan plucks his Beard* 

Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done, 
To pluck me by the beard. 

Reg. So white, and such a traitor ! 

Glo. Naughty lady, 

These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin, 
Will quicken, 10 and accuse thee : I am your host ; 
With robbers' hands, my hospitable favours 11 
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? 

Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from 
France ? 

Reg. Be simple answer'd, for we know the truth. 

Corn. And what confederacy have you with the 
traitors 
Late footed in the kingdom ? 

Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic 
king? 
Speak. 

Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down, 
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, 
And not from one oppos'd. 

Corn. Cunning. 

Reg. I And false. 



6 Meaning Edmund, invested with his father's titles. 
The Steward, speaking immediately after, mentions 
the old earl by the same title. 

7 A questrist is one who goes in quest or search 
of another. 

8 ' Do a courtesy to our wrath,' simply means bend 
lo our wrath, as a courtesy is made by bending the 

body. To pass on any one may be traced from Magna 
Charta: — ' Neque super aim ibimus, nisi per legale 
judicuum parium suorum.' It is common to most of 
our early writers — ' A jury of devils impanneled and 
deeply sworne to pass on all villains in hell.' — If this 
be not a Good Play the Devil is in it, 1612. 

9 i. e. dry, withered, husky arms. This epithet was 
perhaps borrowed from Har'snet: — 'It would pose all 
the cunning exorcists that are this day to be found, to 
teach an old corkie woman to writhe, tumble, curvet, 
and fetch her morice gambols as Martha Dressier did.* 

!0 i. e. quicken into life. 

11 F«doi«'s mean the same as features ; that is, the 
different parts of which a face is composed. 



418 



KING LEAR. 



Act IV 



Corn. Where hast thou sent the king ? 

Glo. To Dover. 

Reg. Wherefore 

To Dover ? Wast thou not charg'd at peril 

Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first an- 
swer that. 
Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the 

course. 1 
Reg. Wherefore to Dover ? 
Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails 
Pluck out his poor old eyes ; nor thy fierce sister 
In his anointed flesh stick 2 boarish fangs. 
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head 
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up, 
And quench'd the stelled 3 fires : yet, poor old heart, 
He holp the heavens to rain. 

If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern 4 time, 
Thou should'st have said, Good porter, turn the key ; 
All cruels else subscrib'd : b — But I shall see 
The winged vengeance ove^ke such children. 
Corn. See it shalt thou never : — Fellows, hold 
the chair: 
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. 6 

[Gloster is held down in his Chair, while 
Cornwall plucks out one of his Eyes, 
and sets his Foot on it. 
Glo. He, that will think to live till he be old, 
Give me some help : — O, cruel ! O, ye gods ! 
Reg. One side will mock another ; the other too. 

Corn. If you see vengeance, 

Serv. Hold your hand, my lord : 

have serv'd you ever since I was a child ; 
But better service have I never done you, 
Than now to bid you hold. 
Reg. How now, you dog ? 
Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, 
I'd shake it on this quarrel ; What do you mean ? 
Corn. My villain ! 7 [Draws, and runs at him. 

Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance 
of anger. 

[Draws. They Jlght. Corn, isiuounded. 
Reg. Give me thy sword. — [To another Serv.] 
A peasant stand up thus ! 

[Snatches a Sword, comes behind him, 
and slabs him. 
Serv. O, I am slain ! — My lord, you have one 
eye left 
To see some mischief on him : — O ! [Dies. 

Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it : — Out, vile 
jelly! 
Where is thy lustre now ? 

[Tears out Gloster's other Eye, and 
throws it on the ground. 
Glo. All dark and comfortless. — Where's my son 
Edmund ? 
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, 
To quit 9 this horrid act. 

Reg. Out, treacherous villain ! 

1 So in Macbeth : — 

' They have chain'd me to a stake ; I cannot fly, 
But, bear-like, 1 must fight the course.' 

2 The quarto reads, ' rash boarish fangs.' To rash 
is the old hunting term for the stroke made by a wild 
boar with his fangs. 

3 Starred. 

4 Thus the folio. The quartos read, ' that dearn 
time.' Dearn is dreary. The reading in the text is 
countenanced by Chapman's version of the 24th Illiad: 

' in this so sterne a time 

Of night and danger.' 

5 i. e. yielded, submitted to the necessity of the oc- 
casion. 

6 This horrible exhibition is not more sanguinary 
than that of some contemporary dramas. In Selimus, 
Emperor of the Turks, one of the sons of Bajazet, pulls 
out the eyes of an Aga on the stage, and says : — 

Yes, thou shalt live, but never see that day, 
Wanting the tapers that should give thee light. 

[Pulls out his eyes.' 
Immediately after his hands are cut oif on the stage. 
In Marston's Antonio's Revenge, 1602, Piero's tongue is 
torn out on the stage. 

1 Yilluin is perhaps here used in its original sense, 
Of one in servitude. 
8 Requite. 



Thou call'st on him that hates thee : t was he 
That made the overture 3 of thy treason to us ; 
Who is too good to pity thee. 

Glo. O, my follies • 

Then Edgar was ahus'd. — 
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him ! 
Reg. Go, thrust him out at gates, and let him 
smell 
His way to Dover. — How is't, my lord ? How look 
you ? 
Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt : — Follow me, lady 
Turn out that eyeless villain ; — throw this slave 
Upon the dunghill. — Regan, I bleed apace : 
Untimely comes this hurt : Give me your arm. 

[Exit Cornwall, led by Regan ; — 
Serva-nls unbind Gloster, and lead 
him out. 

1 Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do, ro 
If this man comes to good. 

2 Serv. If she live long, 
And, in the end, meet the old course of death, 1 ' 
Women will all turn monsters. 

1 Serv. Let's follow the old earl, and get the 

Bedlam 
To lead him where he would ; his roguish madness 
Allows itself to any thing. 

2 Serv. Go thou ; I'll fetch some flax, and whites 

of eggs, 12 
To apply to his bleeding face. Now, Heaven help 
him! [Exeunt severally. 



ACT IV. 
SCENE I. The Heath. Enter Edgar. 
Edg. Yet better thus, and know to be contemn'd, 
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. 13 To be worst. 
The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune, 
Stands still in esperance, lives'not in fear: 
The lamentable change is from the best ; 
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, 14 
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace! 
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst, 
Owes nothing to thy blasts. — But who comes here?— 
Enter Gloster, led by an old Man.- 

My father, poorly led ? — World, world, O, world ! 
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
Life would not yield to age. 15 

Old Man. O, my good lord, I have been your 
tenant, and youi father's tenant, these fourscore 
years. 

Glo. Away, get thee away ; good friend, be gone : 
Thy comforts can do me no good at all, 
Thee they may hurt. 

Old Man. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. 

Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes ; 
I stumbled when I saw : Full of» 'tis seen, 



9 Overture here means an opening, a discovery. ' It 
was he who first laid thy treasons open to us.' 

10 This short dialogue is only found in the quartos. 
It is, as Theobald observes, full of nature. Servants 
could hardly see such barbarity committed without pity ; 
and the vengeance that they presume must overtake the 
actors of it, is a sentiment and doctrine well worthy of 
the stage and of the great moral poet : 

11 i. e. die a natural death. 

12 Steevens asserted that this passage was ridiculed 
by Ben Jonson, in The Case is Altered. Mr. GtfTord 
has shown the folly and falsehood of the assertion ; and 
that it was only a common allusion to a method of 
stanching blood practised in the poet's time by every 
barber-surgeon and old woman in the kingdom. 

13 'It is better to be thus openly contemned, than to 
be flattered and secretly contemned.' The expression 
in this speech, ' owes nothing to thy blasts,' might seem 
to be copied from Virgil, Mn. xi. 51 s — 

' Nos juvenem exanimum, et nil jam cmlestibus ullis 
Debentem, vano moesti comitamur honore.' 

14 The next two lines and a half are not in the quartos. 

15 ' O world ! if reverses of fortune and changes such 
as I now see and fe»l, from ease and affluence to poverty 
and misery, did not show us the little value of life, 
we should "never submit with any kind of resignation to 
death, the necessary consequences of old agp. ; wc 
should cling to life more strongly than we do.' 



Scene II. 



KING LEAR. 



419 



Our mean secures us, 1 and our mere defects 
Prove our commodities. — Ah, dear son, Edgar, 
The food of thy abused father's wrath ! 
Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 2 
I'd say, I had eyes again ! 

Old Man. How now ? Who's there ? 

Edg. [Aside.'] O, gods! Who is't can say, lam 
at the worst ? 
I am worse than e'er I was. 

Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. 

Edg. [Aside.] And worse I may be yet ; The 
worst is not, 
So long as we can say, This is the ivorst. 3 

Old Man. Fellow, where goest ? 

Glo. Is it a beggar man ? 

Old Man. Madman and beggar too. 

Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg. 
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw ; 
Which made me think a man a worm ; My son 
Came then into my mind ; and yet my mind 
Was then scarce friends with him : I have heard 

more since ; 
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; 
They kill us for their sport. 1 

Edg. How should this be ? — 

Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow, 
Ang'ring itself and others. [Aside.] — Bless thee, 
master ! 

Glo. Is that the naked fellow ? 

Old Man. Ay, my lord. 

Glo. Then, 'pr'ythee, get thee gone : If, for my 
sake, 
Thou wilt o'ertake me, hence a mile or twain, 
I' the way to Dover, do it for ancient love ; 
And bring some covering for this naked soul, 
Whom I'll entreat to lead me. 

Old Man. Alack, sir, he's mad. 

Glo. 'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead 
the blind. 
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure : 
Above the rest, be gone. 

Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I 
have, 
Come on't what will. [Exit. 

Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow. 

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. — I cannot daub 5 it 
further, [Aside. 

Glo. Come hither, fellow. 

Edg. [Aside.] And yet I must. — Bless thy sweet 
eyes, they bleed. 

Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover ? 

Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way, and foot- 
path. Poor Tom hath been scar^ out of his good 
wits : Bless the good man from the foul fiend ! 



1 Mean is here put for our moderate or mean condi- 
tions. It was sometimes the practice of the poet's age 
to use the plural, when the subject spoken of related to 
more persons than one. To avoid the equivoque, Pope 
changed the reading or the old copy ' to our mean 
secures us,' which is certainly more intelligible, and 
may have been the reading intended, as meane being 
spelled with a finale might easily be mistaken for means, 
which is the reading of the old copy. 

2 So in another scene, 'I see it feelingly.'' 

3 i. e. while we live ; for while we yet continue to 
have a sense of feeling, something worse than the pre- 
sent may still happen. He recalls his former rash con- 
clusion. 

4 ' Dii nos quasi pilas homines haberit.' 

Plant. Captiv. Prol. i. 22. 
Thus also in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. ii. : — 

• wretched human kinde 

Balles to the starres,' &c. 

5 i. e. disguise it. 

' So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue.' 
Xing Richard III. 

6 ' The devil in Ma. Mainy confessed his name to be 
Modu, and that he had besides himself seven other spi- 
rits, and all of them captaines, and of great fame. 
Then Edmundes, (the exorcist ) began againe with 
great earnestness, and all the cocp.ny cried out, &c. 
so as both that wicked prince Modu and his com- 
pany might be cast out.' — Harsnet, p. 163. This pas- 
sage will account for ' five fiends having been in poor 
Tom al once.' 



[Five fiends 6 have been in poor Tom at once ; of 
lust, as Obidicut ; Hobbididance, prince of dumb- 
ness ; Mahu, of stealing ; Modo, of murder ; and 
Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing ; who since 
possesses chambermaids and waitingwomen.' So, 
bless thee, master !] 

Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the hea- 
ven's plagues 
Have humbled to all strokes : that I am wretched, 
Makes thee the happier : — Heavens, deal so still ! 
Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man, 
That slaves your ordinance, 8 that will not see 
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly , 
So distribution should undo excess, 
And each man have enough.— Dost thou know 
Dover ? 
Edg. Ay, master. 

Glo. There is a cliff", whose high and bending head 
Looks fearfully in 9 the confined deep : 
Bring me but to the very brim of it, 
And I'll repair the misery Ihou dost bear, 
With something rich about me : from that place 
I shall no leading need. 

Edg. Give me thy arm ; 

Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Before the Duke of Albany's Palace. 
Enter Goneril and Edmund ; Steward meet- 
ing them. 

Gon. Welcome, my lord : I marvel, our mild 

husband' u 
Not met us on the way : — Now, where's your 

master? 
Stew. Madam, within ; but never man so chang'd: 
I told him of the army that was landed ; 
He smil'd at it : I told him, you were coming ; 
His answer was, The worse : of Gloster's treachery, 
And of the loyal service of his son, 
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot 
And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out : — 
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him ; 
What like, offensive. 

Gon. Then shall you ho no further. 

[To Edmund. 
It is the cowish terror of his spirit, 
That dares not undertake : he'll not feel wrongs, 
Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, on the 

wayy 
May prove effects. 1 ' Back, Edmund, to my brother ; 
Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers : 
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff 
Into ray husband's hands. This trusty servant 
Shall pass between us : ere long you are like to 

hear, 



7 ' If she have a little helpe of the mother, epilepsie, 
or cramp, to teach her role her eyes, wrie her mouth, 
gnash her teeth, starte with her body, hold her armes 
and handes stiffe, make antike faces, grinee, mow and 
mop, like an ape, then no doubt the young girl is owle- 
blasted, and possessed.' — Harsnet, p. 136. The five 
devils here mentioned are the names of five of those 
who were made to act in this farce, three cliambermaids 
or waiting women, in Mr. Edmund Peckham's family. 
The reader will now perceive why a coquette is called 
fl.ihergibbit or titifill by Cotgrave. See Act iii. Sc. 4. 
The passage in crotchets is omitted in the folio. 

9 ' Lear has before uttered the same sentiment, which 
indeed cannot be too strongly impressed, though it may 
be too often repeated.' — Johnson. To slave an ordi- 
nance is to treat it as a slave, to make it subject to us, 
instead of acting in obedience to it. So in Heywood's 
Brazen Age, 1613 :— 

' none 

Could slave him like the Lydian Omphale.' 
Again, in A New Way to Pay Old Debts, by Massin- 
ger : — ' that slaves me to his will.' The quartos read, 
' That stands your ordinance,' which maybe right, says 
Malone, and means withsla}ids or abides. 

9 In is here put for on, as in other places of these 
plays. 

10 It must be remembered that Albany, the husband 
of Goneril, disliked the scheme of oppression and in- 
gratitude at the end of the first act. 

11 'The wishes which we expressed to each other on 
the way hither, may be completed, may take effect,' 
perhaps alluding to the destruction of her husband 



420 



KING LEAR, 



Act IV. 



If you dare venture in your own behalf, 
A mistress's command. Wear this ; spare speech ; 
[Giving a Favour. 
Decline your head : this kiss, if it durst speak, 
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air; 1 — 
Conceive, and fare thee well. 
Edm. Your3 in the ranks of death. 
Gon. My most dear Gloster ! 

[Exit Edmujjd. 
O, the difference of man, and man ! 
To thee a woman's services are due ; 
My fool usurps my bed. 2 

Stew. Madam, here comes my lord. 

[Exit Steward. 
Enter Albany. 

Gon. I have been worth the whistle.* 

Alb. O, Goneril ! 

You art not worth the dust which the rude wind 
Blows in your face — I fear your disposition : 4 
That nature, which contemns its origin, 
Cannot be borderM certain in itself; 
She that herself will sliver 5 and disbranch 
From her material sap, B perforce must wither, 
And come to deadly use.' 

Gon. No more ; the text is foolish. 

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile : 
Filths savour but themselves. What have you 

done ? 
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd ? 
A father, and a gracious aged man, 
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick, 8 
Most barbarous, most degenerate ! have you madded. 
Could my good brother suffer you to do it ? 
A man, a prince, by him so benefited ? 
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, 
'Twill come, 

Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 
Like monsters of the deep. 

Gon. Milk-liver'd man ! 

That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs ; 
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 
Thine honour from thy suffering'; that not know'st/ 
Fools do those villains pity, who are punish'd 
Ero they have done their mischief. 10 Where's thy 

drum ? 
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land ; 
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats ; 
Whist thou, a moral fool, sitl'st still, and cry'st, 
Alack ! why does he so ? 

Alb. See thyself, devil ! 



1 She bids him decline his head, that she mitrht give 
him a kiss, (the steward being present,) and that might 
appear only to him as a whisper. 

2 Quarto A reads ' my foot usurp my body.'' Quarto 
B, 'my/oonisurpsmvAa;'/.' Quarto C, l a fool usurps 
my bed.'' The folio reads, ' my fool usurps my body.' 

3 Alluding to the proverb, l It is a poor dog that is not 
worth the whistling. > Goneril's meaning seems to be, 
' There was a time when you would have thought me 
worth the calling to you,' reproaching him for not hav- 
ing summoned her to consult with on the present occa- 
sion. 

4 These words and the lines following, to monsters 
of the deep, are not in' the folio. They are necessary 
to explain the reasons of the detestation which Albany 
here expresses to his wife 

5 So in Macbeth : — 

' slips of yew 

Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse.' 

6 • She who breaks the bonds of filial duty, and be- 
comes wholly alienated from her father, must wither 
and perish, like a branch separated from that trunk or 
body which supplied it with sap.'' There is a peculiar 
propriety in the use of the word material : materia, 
Lat. sijnifying the trunk or body of the tree. 

7 Alluding to the use that witches and enchanters are 
said to make of withered branches in their charms. A 
fine insinuation in the speaker, that she was ready for 
the most unnatural mischief, and a preparative of the 
poet to her plotting with the bastard against her hus- 
band's life. — Warburton. Dr. Warburton might have 
adduced the passage from Macbeth above quoted in 
support of his ingenious interpretation. 



Proper deformity seems not m the fiend 
So horrid, as in woman. 11 

Gon. O, vain fool ! 

Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd 12 thing, for 
shame, 
Be-monster not thy feature." Were it my fitness 
To let these hands obey my blood, 14 
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear 
Thy flesh and bones ; — Howe'er thou art a fiend, 
A woman's shape doth shield thee, 

Gon. Marry, your manhood now ! 

Enter a Messenger. 

Alb. What news ? 

Mess. O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's 
dead ; 
Slain by his servant, going to put out 
The other eye of Gloster. 

Alb. Gloster's eyes? 

Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with ra- 
morse 
Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword 
To his great master ; who, thereat enrag'd, 
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead : 
But not without that harmful stroke, which since 
Hath pluck'd him after. 

Alb. This shows you are above, 

You justicers, that these our nether crimes 
So speedily can venge '. — But, O, poor Gloster! 
Lost he his other eye? 

Mess. Both, both, my lord.— 

This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer ; 
'Tis from your sister. 

Gon. [A&de.] One way I like this well ; ,s 
But being widow, and my Gloster with her, 
May all the building in my fancy pluck 
Upon my hateful life : Another way, 
The news is not so tart. — I'll read and answer. [Exit. 

Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his 
eyes ? 

Mess. Come with my lady hither. 

Alb. He is not here. 

Mess. No, my good lord ; I met him back again. 

Alb. Knows he the wickedness ? 

Mess. Ay, my good lord ; 'twas he inform'd 
against him ; 
And quit the house on purpose, that their punish • 

merit 
Might have the freer course. 

Alb. Gloster, I live 

To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, 
And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend ; 
Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt, 



8 This line is not in the folio. 

9 The rest of this speech is also omitted in the folio. 

10 ' Goneril means to say that none but fools would bo 
excited to commiserate those who are prevented from 
executing their malicious designs, and punished for 
their evil intention.' Malone doubts whether Goneril 
alludes to her father, but surely there cannot be a douht 
that she does, and to the pity for his sufferings ex- 
pressed by Albany, whom she means indirectly to call 
Si fool for expressing it. 

11 That is, ' Diabolic qualities appear not so horrid in 
the devil, to whom they belong, as in woman, who un- 
naturally assumes them.' 

12 The meaning appears to be ' thou that hast hid the 
woman under the fiend ; thou that hast disguised nature 
by wickedness.' Steevens thinks that there may be an 
allusion to the coverings which insects furnish to ;hem- 
selves, like the silkworm, that — 

' labours till it clouds it3elf all o'er.^ 

13 It has been already observed that feature was often 
used for form or person in general, the figure of the 
whole body. 

14 My blood is my passion, my inclination. This 
verse wants a foot, which Theobald purposed to supply 
by readin? ' boiling blood.' 

15 Goneril's plan was to poison her sister, to marry 
Edmund, to murder Albany, and to get possession of 
the whole kingdom. As the death of Cornwall facili- 
tated the last part of her scheme, she was pleased at 
it ; but disliked it. as it put t in the power of her sister 
to marry Edmund 



Scene IV. 



KING LEAR. 



421 



fSCENE HI. 1 Tne French Camp near Dover. 
Enter Kent, and a Gentleman. 2 

Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly 
gone back know you the reason ? 3 

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, 
Which since his coming forth is thought of; which 
Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, 
That his personal return was most required, 
And necessary. 

Kent. Who hath he left behind him general ? 

Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer. 

Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any 
demonstration of grief? 

Gent. Ay, sir ; she took them, read them in my 
presence ; 
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down 
Her delicate cheek : it seem'd, she was a queen 
Over her passion ; who, most rebel-like, 
Sousht to be king o'er her. 

Kent. O, then it mov'd her. 

Gent. Not to a rage : patience and sorrow strove 
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen 
Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears 
Were like ; — a better way.* Those happy smiles, 5 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence, 
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. 6 — In brief, sorrow 
Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all 
Could so become it. 

Kent. Made she no verbal question V 

Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name 
of father 
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart ; 
Cried, Sisters ! sisters ! — Sha?ne of ladies ! sisters ! 
Kent .' father ! sisters ! What ! i 1 the storm ? i' tfte 

night ? 
Let pity not be believed ! s — There she shook 
The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
And clamour moisten'd : 9 then away she started 
To deal with grief alone. 

Kent. It is the stars, 

The stars above us, govern our conditions ; 10 



Else one self mate and mate," could not beget 
Such different issues. You spoke not with her 
since ? 

Gent. No. 

Kent. Was this before the king return'd ? 

Gent. No, since. 

Kent. Well, sir ; the poor distress'd Lear is i' the 
town : 
Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers 
What we are come about, and by no means 
Will yield to see his daughter. 

Gent. Why, good sir ? 

Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him : his 
own unkindness, 
That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her 
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 
To his dog-hearted daughters, — these things sting 
His mind so venomously, that burning shame 
Detains him from Cordelia. 

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman ! 

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you 
heard not? 

Gent. Tis so, they are afoot. 

Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, 
And leave you to attend him : some dear cause 1 * 
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ; 
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve 
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go 
Along with me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. A Tent. Enter Cor- 
delia, Physician, and Soldiers. 
Cor. Alack, 'tis he ; why, he was met even now 
As mad as the vex'd sea : singing aloud ; 
Crown'd with rank fumiter, 13 and furrow weeds, 
With harlocks, 14 hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel, 15 and all the idle weeds that grow 
In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ; 
Search every acre in the high grown field, 
And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.]-— 

What can man's wisdom do, ■ s 



1 This scene is left out in the folio copy, but is ne 
cessary to continue the story of Cordelia, whose beha- 
viour is most beautifully painted. 

2 The gentlemen whom he sent in the foregoing act 
vrith letters to Cordelia. 

3 The king of France being no longer a necessary 
personage, it was fit that some pretext for getting rid of 
him should be formed before the play was too near ad- 
vanced towards a conclusion. Decency required that a 
monarch should not be silently shuffled into the pack of 
insignificant characters ; and therefore his dismission, 
(which could be effected only by a sudden recall to his 
own dominions,) was to be accounted for before the au- 
dience. For this purpose, among, others, the present 
6cene was introduced. It is difficult to say what use 
could have been made of the king, had he appeared at 
the head of his own armament, and survived the mur- 
der of his queen. His conjugal concern on the occa- 
sion might have weakened the effect of Lear's paternal 
sorrow ; and, being an object of respect as well as pity, 
he would naturally have divided the spectator's attention, 
and thereby diminished the consequence of Albany, Ed- 
gar, and Kent, whose exemplary virtues deserved to be 
ultimately placed in the most conspicuous pfcint of 
view. — Steevens 

4 Both the quartos read, ' were like a better way.'' 
Steevens reads, upon the suggestion of Theobald, ' a 
better day,'' with a long and somewhat ingenious, though 
unsatisfactory argument in defence of it. Warburton 
reads, 'a wetter May ,' which is plausible enough. Ma- 
lone adopts a part of his emendation, and reads ' a bet- 
ter May.- I have been favoured by Mr. Boaden with 
the following solution of this passage, which, as it pre- 
eervesthe reading of the old copy, merits attention : — 
' The difficulty has arisen from a general mistake as to 
the simile itself; and Shakspeare's own words here ac- 
tually convey his perfect meaning, as indeed they com- 
monly do. I understand the passage thus • • 

" You have seen 

Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears 

"Were like ; a better way." 
'That is, Cordelia's smiles and tears were like the con- 
junction of sunshine and rain, in a belter way or man- 
tier Now in what did this better way consist ? Why 



simply in the smiles seeming unconscious of the tears , 
whereas the sunshine has a watery look through the 
falling drops of rain — 

" Those happy smiles, 

That playd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 

What guests were in her eyes." 
' That the point of comparison was neither a " better 
day," nor a " wetter May," is proved by the following 
passages, cited by Steevens and Malone : — "Her tears 
came dropping down like rain in sunshine." — Sidney's 
Jlrcadia, p. 244. 

'I may just observe, as perhaps an illustration, that 
the belter way of Charity is that the right hand should 
not know what the left hand giveth.' 

5 The quartos read smilets, which may be a diminu- 
tive of the poet's coining. 

6 Steevens would read dropping, but as must be un- 
derstood to signify as if. I do not think that jewelled 
pendants were in the poet's mind. A similar beautiful 
thought in Middleton's Game of Chess has caught the 
eye of Milton : — 

' the holy dew lies like a pearl 

Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn 
Upon the bashful rose.' 

7 i. e. discourse, conversation. 

8 i. e. let not pity be supposed to exist. It is not 
impossible but Shakspeare might have formed this fine 
picture of Cordelia's agony from holy writ, in the con- 
duct of Joseph, who, being no longer able to restrain the 
vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue 
from his presence ; and then wrpt aloud, and discovered 
himself to his brethren.— Theobald. 

9 That is, 'her outcries were accompanied with tears.' 

10 Conditions are dispositions. 

11 i. e. the selfsame husband and wife. 

12 Important business. 

13 i. e. fumitory, written by the old herbalists fumittery 

14 The quartos read hardocks, the folio hardokes. 
Drayton mentious harlocks in one of his Eclogues :— 

' The honey-suckle, the harlocke, 
The lily, and the lady-smocke,' &c. 
Perhaps the charlock, sinapis arvensis, or wild mus- 
tard, may be meant. 

15 Darnel, according to Gerard, is the most hurtjuloj 
weeds among corn. 

16 Steevens says that do should be omitted as nsedlesa 



422 



KING LEAR. 



A:t 



In the restoring his bereaved sense ? 

He, that helps him, take all my outward worth. 

Phy. Tiiere is means, madam : 
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, 
The which lie lacks ; that to provoke in him, 
Are many simples operative, whose power 
Will close the eye of anguish. 

Cor. All bless'd secrets, 

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, 
Spring with my tears ! be aidant, and remediate, 
Iii the good man's distress ! — Seek, seek for him ; 
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life 
That wants the means to lead it. 1 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Madam, news ; 

The British powers are marching hitherward. 

Cor. 'Tis known before ; our preparation stands 
In expectation of them. — O, dear father, 
It is thv business that I go about ; 
Therefore great France 

My mournins, and important 2 tears, hath pitied. 
No blown 3 ambition doth our arms incite, 
But love, dear love, and our aged father's right : 
Soon may I hear, and see him. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter 
Regan and Steward. 

Re?. But are my brother's powers set forth ? 

Stew. Ay, madam. 

Reg. Himself, 

In person there ? 

Stew. Madam, with much ado : 

Your sister is the better soldier. 

Reg. Lord Edmund spoke not with your lord at 
home ? 

Stew. No, madam. 

Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him ? 

Stew. I know not, lady. 

Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. 
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out, 
To let him live ; where he arrives, he moves 
All hearts against us : Edmund, I think, is gone, 
In pity of his miserv, to despatch 
His mghted life ; 4 moreover, to descry 
The strength o' the enemy. 

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my 
letter. 

Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay with us ; 
The ways are dangerous. 

Stew. I may not, madam; 

My lady charg'd my duty in thk business. 

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund ? Might 
not you 



to the sense of the passage, and injurious to the metre. 
Thus in Hamlet : — 

' Try what repentance can ; What can it not?' 
Do, in either place, is understood, though suppressed. 
Do is found in none of the old copies but quarto B. 

1 i. e. the reason which should guide it. 

2 Tntportant for import/mute, as in other places of 
these plats. See Comedy of Errors, Act v. Sc. I. The 
folio reads importuned. 

8 No inflated, no swelling pride. 
' Quam bene te ambilio mersit vanisgima, ventus, 
Et tumidos tumidos vos superastis aquae.' 

Beza on the Spanish Armada. 
So in The Little French Lawyer of Beaumont and 
Fletcher :— 

' I come with no blown spirit to abuse you.' 

4 i. c. his life made dark as night, by the extinction 
of his eyes. 

5 ' 1 know not well (says Johnson) whv Shakspeare 
gives the Steward, who is a mere factor for wickedness, 
s>o much fidelity. Hf now refuses the letter ; and after- 
wards, when he is dying, thinks only how it maybe 
safely delivered.' — Jokuspn. 

' Surely when Dr. Johnson made this note, he did 
not recollect the character Edgar j*ives of" this Stew- 
ard after he is dead : — 

" As duteous to the vices of thy mistress 
As badness could require." 
1 Fidelity in agents of wickedness is, I fear, not so un- 
common as to be unfit tor the general probability of 
dramatic manners.' — Pyt 



Transport her purposes by word ? Belike, 
Something — I know not what : — I'll love thee much 
Let me unseal the letter. b 

Stew. Madam, I had rather^— 

Reg. I know, your lady does not love her husband; 
I am sure of that: and, at her late being here, 
She gave strange ceiliads, 6 and most speaking looks 
To noble Edmund : I know, you are of her bosom. 

Stew. I, madam ? 

Reg. I speak in understanding ; you are, I know it: 
Therefore, I do advise yon, take this note : T 
My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talk'd ; 
And more convenient is he for my hand, 
Than for your lady's : — You may gather more. 
If you do find him, pray you, give him this ;" 
And when your mistress hears thus much from you, 
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. 
So, fare you well. 

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, 
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. 

Slew. 'Would, I could meet him, madam ! I 
would show 
What parly I do follow. 

Reg. Fare thee well. \Exeunt~ 

SCENE VI. 10 The Country near Dover. Enter 

Gloster, and Edgar, dressed like a Peasant. 

Glo. When shall we come to the top of that samo 
hUl? 

Edg. You do climb up it now : look, how w« 
labour. 

Glo. Methinks the ground is even. 

Edg. Horrib steep t 

Hark, do you hear the sea? 

Glo No, truly. 1 " 

Edge. Whv, then vour other senses grow imperfect 
By your eyes' anguish. 

Qlo. So may it be, indeed ■ 

Methinks, thy voice is alter'd ; 12 and thou speak'st 
In better phrase, and matter, than thnrt didst. 

Edg. You are much deceivM ; in nothing am I 
chang'd, 
But in my garments. 

Glo. Methinks, you are better spoken. 

Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand 
still. — How fearful 
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! 
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, 
Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire ; 13 dreadful trade J 
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head : 
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
Appear like mice ; and yon' tall anchoring bark, 
Diminiah'd to her cock ; 14 her cock, a buoy 
Almost too small for sight : The murmuring surge, 
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high ; — I'll look no more ; 



6 CEillade, Fr. a cast, or significant glauce of the 
eye. 

7 That is, observe what I am saying. 

8 You may infer more than I have directly told you. 

9 Perhaps a ring, or some token, is given to tha 
steward by Regan to be conveyed to Edmund. 

10 This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloster is- 
cured of his desperation, are wholly borrowed from 
Sidney's Arcadia, book ii. 

11 Something to complete the measure seems wanting 
in this or the foregoing hemistich. The quartos read ast 
one line : — 

' Horrible steep : hark, do you hear the sea ?»' 

12 Edgar alters his voice in order to pass afterwards 
for a malignant spirit. 

13 ' Samphire grows in great pi«nty on most of the 
sea cliffs in this country : ii ie terrible to see how people 
gather it, hanging by a rope several fathom from the 
top of the impending rocks, as it were in the air." — 
Smith's History of Waterford, p. 315. edit. 1774. — 
Dover Cliff was particularly resorted to fr this plant, 
according to Drayton, Polyolbior., b. :rv.ii.: — 

'Hob Dover's neighbouring cie eves of samphire, to 
excite 

His dull and sickly taste, and stir up appetite.' 
It is still eaien ai* a pitkle in those parts of England 
bordering on the southern coast. 

14 i. e. her cack~baat Hence the term coci-sM 1 oj'jl. 



SttEHE VI. 



KING LEAR. 



423 



Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
Topple 1 down headlong. 

Glo. Set me where you stand. 

Edg. Give me your hand : You are now within 
a foot 
Of the extreme verge : for all beneath the moon 
Would I not leap upright. 

Glo. Let go my hand. 

Here, friend, is another purse ; in it a jewel 
Well worth a poor man's taking : Fairies, and gods, 
Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off; 
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 

Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. [Seems to go. 

Glo. With all my heart. 

Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his despair, 
Is done to cure it. 

Glo. O, you mighty gods ! 

This world I do renounce ; and, in your sights 
Shake patiently my great affliction off: 
If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 
My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should 
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him ! — 
Now, fellow, fare thee well. 

[He leaps and falls along. 

Edg. Gone, sir ? farewell. — 

And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
The treasury of life, when life itself 
Yields to the theft : 2 Had he been where he thought, 
By this, had thought been past. — Alive, or dead ? 
Ho, you sir ! friend ! — Hear you, sir ? — speak ! 
Thus might he pass indeed : 3 — Yet he revives : 
What are you, sir 1 

Glo. Away, and let me die. 

Edg. Had'st thou been ought but gossamer, 4 
feathers, air, 
So many fathom down precipitating, 
Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg : but thou dost 

breathe ; 
Hast heavy substance ; bleed'st not ; speak'st ; art 

sound. 
Ten masts at each 5 make not the altitude, 
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell ; 
Thy life's a miracle : Speak yet again. 

Glo. But have I fallen, or no ? 

Edg. From the dretd summit of this chalky 
bourn : 6 
Look up a-height ; — the shrill-gorg'd lark so far 
Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up. 



1 To topple is to tumble : the word is again used in 
Macbeth. So in Nashe's Lenten Stuffe, 1599 : — ' Fifty 
people toppled up their heels there.' 

2 That is, ' when life is willing to be destroyed.' 

3 ' Thus might he die in reality.' We still use the 
word passing-bell. So in King Henry VI. Part II. : — 

' Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.' 

4 ' The substance called gossamer is formed of the 
collected webs of flying spiders, and during calm 
weather in autumn sometimes falls in amazing quanti- 
ties.' — Holt White. Some think it the down of plants ; 
others the vapour arising from buggy or marshy ground 
in warm weather. The etjmon of this word, which 
has puzzled the lexicographers, is said to be summer 
geose M summer gauze, hence 'gauze o'the summer,' 
its well known name in the north. See Hortt, Momenta 
CravetuB, or the Craven Dialect Exemplified, 1824, 
8vo. p. "9. 

•o i. e. drawn out at length, or each added to the 
other. l Erh,e, exp. draw out, ab Anglo Saxon elcan, 
elcian, Diferre, vel a verbUoeak.' Skinner, Etymolog. 
Skinner is right in his last derivation, it is from the 
Anglo-Saxon eacan, to add. Thus Chaucer, in The 
House of Fame, b. iii. v. 975 : — 

' ean somewhat to eche, 

To this tiding in his speche.' 
And in Troilus and Cresseide, b. i. v. 706 : — 

' As doen these fooles, that hir sorrowes eche.' 
Pope changed this to attach! ; Johnson would read on 
end; Steevens proposes at reach. Ignorance of our 
earlier language has been the stumbling-block, of all 
these eminent critics. 

6 i. e. this chalky boundary of England. 

7 WelkHl is marked with protuberances. This and 
whelk are probably only different forms of the same 
sro.rU The welk is a small shellfish, so called, perhaps, 



Glo. Alack, I have no eves.— 
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit, 
To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort, 
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage, 
And frustrate his proud will. 

Edg. Give me your arm ; 

Up: — So; — How is't? Feel you your legs? You 
stand. 

Glo. Too well, too well. 

Edg. This is above all strangeness. 

Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that 
Which parted from you ? 

Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar. 

Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his eyes 
Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses, 
Horns welk'd, 7 and wav'd like the enridged sea ; 
It was some fiend : Therefore, thou happy father, 
Think that the clearest" gods, who make them hon- 
ours 
Of men's impossibilities, 9 have preserv'd thee. 

Glo. I do remember now ; henceforth I'll bear 
Affliction, till it do cry out itself, 
Enough, enough, and, die. That thing you speak of, 
I took it for a man ; often 'twould say, 
The fiend, the fiend : he led me to that place 
Edg. Bear free 10 and patient thoughts. — But who 

comes here ? 
Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with Flowers. 
The safer sense 1 ' will ne'er accommodate 
His master thus. 

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining ; 
I am the king himself. 

Edg. O, thou side-piercing sight! 

Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's 
your press-money. 12 That fellow handles his bow 
like a crow-keeper : 15 draw me a clothier's yard. — 
Look, look, a mouse ! Peace, peace ; — this piece of 
toasted cheese will do't. — There's my gauntlet ; I'll 
prove it on a giant. — Bring up the brown bills. 14 — 
0, well flown, bird ! — i' the clout, i' the clout ! 
hewgh! — Give the word.'- 5 

Edg. Sweet majoram. 

Lear. Pass. 

Glo. I know that voice. 

Lear. Ha ! Goneril ! — with a white beard ! — 
They fla'.ter'd me like a dog ; and told me, I had 
white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were 
there. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said ! — 



because its shell is marked with convolved protuberant 
ridges. 

8 That is, the purest ; the most free from evil. So in 
Timon of Athens : — ' Roots ! you clear gods ! 

9 By men's impossibilities perhaps is meant what 
men call i?>ipossibilities, what appear as such to mere 
mortal beings. 

10 ' Bear free and patient thoughts.' Free here meari3 
pure, as in other places of these plays. 

11 'The safer sense (says Mr. Blakeway) seems to 
me to mean the eyesight, which, says Edgar, will never 
more serve the unfortunate Lear so well as those which 
Gloster has remaining will serve him, who is now 
returned to a right mind. Horace terms the eyes ' oculi 
fide/is,' and the eyesight may be called the safer sense 
in allusion to the proverb ' Seeing is believing.' Gloster 
afterwards laments the stiffness of his vile sense.'' 

12 It is evident from the whole ol this speech that Lear 
fancied himself in a battle. For the meaning of press 
money, see the first scene of Hamlet, which will also, 
serve to explain the passage in Act v. Sc. 2 : — 

' And turn our imprest lances in our eyes.' 

13 ' Or if thou'k not thy archery forbear, 

To some base rustick do thyself prefer ; 
And when corn's sown, or grown into the ear, 
Practice thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.'' 

Drayton, Idea the Forty-eighth. 
Ascham, in speaking of awkward shooters, says: — 
' Another cowreth down, and layeth out his buttockes as 
thoughe he would shoote at crowesS 

The subsequent expression of Lear, ' draw me a 
clothier's yard,' Steevens thinks, alludes to the old 
ballad of Chevy Chase : — 

' An arrow of a cloth yard long, 
Up to the head he drew,' &c. 

14 Battleaxes. 

15 Lear is here raving of archery, falconry, and a 



424 



KING LEAR. 



Act IV. 



Ay and no too was no good divinity. 1 When the 
rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make 
me chatter ; when the thunder would not peace at 
my bidding ; there I found them, there I smelt them 
out. Go to, they are not men o' their words : they 
told me I was every thing : 'tis a lie ; I am not 
ague proof. 

Glo. The trick 2 of that voice I do well remember : 
Is't not the king ? 

Lear. Ay, every inch, a king : 

When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. 
I pardon'd that man's life : what was thy cause? — 
Adultery. — 

Thou shalt not die ; Die for adultery ! No : 
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly 
Does lecher in my sight. 

Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son 
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters 
Got 'tween the lawful sheets. 
To't, luxury, 3 pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. — 
Behold yon simpering dame, 
Whose face between her forks presageth snow ;* 
That minces 5 virtue, and does shake the head 
To hear of pleasure's name ; 
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, c goes to't 
With a more riotous appetite. 
Down from the waist they are centaurs, 
Though women all above ; 
But 7 to the girdle do the gods inherit,* 
Beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's dark- 
ness, 
There is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, 
consumption : — Fie, fie, fie * pah ; pah ! Give me 
me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten 
my imagination : there's money for thee. 

Glo. O, let me kiss that hand ! 

Lear. Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality. 

Glo. O, ruin'd piece of nature ! This great world 
Shall so wear out to nought. — Dost thou know me / 

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost 
thou squiny at me ? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid ! 
I'll not love. — Read thou this challenge ; mark but 
ihe penning of it. 

Glo. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. 

Edg. I would not take this from report ; — it is, 
And my heart breaks at it. 



battle, jumbled together in quick transition. ' Well 
flown bird'' was the falconer's expression when the 
hawk was successful in her flight; it is so used in A 
"Woman Kill'd with Kindness. The clout is the white 
"mark at which archers aim. By 'give the word,' the 
watchword in a camp is meant. The quartos read, ' O 
well flown bird in the at/re, hugh, give the word.' 

1 It has been proposed to read, ' To say ay and no to 
every thing I said ay and no to, was no good divinity.' 
Besides the .inaccuracy of construction in the passage as 
k stands in the text, it does not appear how it could be 
flattery to dissent from as well as assent to every thing 
Lear said. 

2 Trick is a word used for the air, or peculiarity in a 
face, voice, or gesture, which distinguishes it" from 
ethers. We still say he has a trick of winking with his 
eyes, &c. 

3 i. e. incontinence. 

4 The construction is, i "Whose face presageth snow 
between her forks.' So in Timon of Athens, Act iv. 
Sc. 3 :— 

' Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
That lies on Dian's lap.' 
See Cotgrave's Diet, in v. Fourcheure. 

5 i. e. puts on an outward affected seeming of virtue. 
See Cotgrave in v. Mineitx-se. He also explains it 
under ' Faire la sadinelte, to mince it, nicefie it, be 
very squeamish, backward, or coy.' 

6 The ftchew is the polecat. A soiled horse is'a horse 
that has been fed with hay and corn during the winter, 
and is turned out in the spring to take the first flush of 
grass, or has it cut and carried to him. This at once 
cleanses the animal and fills him with blood. In the 
old copies the preceding as well as the latter part of 
Lear's speech is printed as prose. It is doubtful whether 
iny part o! it was intended for metre. 

7 But in its exceptive sense. 

8 Possess. 

9 From ' hide all ' to ' accuser's lips ' is wanting in 
the quart03 



Lear. Read. 

Glo. What, with the case of eyes ? 

Lear. O, ho, are you there with me ? No eyea 
in your head, nor no money in your purse ? Your 
eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light : Yet 
you see how this world goes. 

Glo. I see it feelingly. 

Lear. What, art mad ? A man may see how this 
world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears ; 
see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief. 
Hark, in thine ear : Change places ; and handy- 
dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? — 
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? 

Glo. Ay, sir. 

Lear. And the creature run from the cur ? There 
thou might'st behold the great image of authority ; 
A dog's obey'd in office. 
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : 
Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own 

back : 
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind 
For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs 

the cozener. 
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear 
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. 3 Plate sin with 

gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say none; I'll able 'em ;'° 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ; 
And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
To see the things thou dost not. — Now, now, now, 

now : 
Pull off" my boots ; — harder, harder ; so. 

Edg. O, matter and impertinency 11 mix'd ! 
Reason in madness ! 

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, lake my eyes, 
I know thee well enough ; thy name isGIoster: 
Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither. 
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air, 
We wawl, and cry : IS — I will preach to thee ; mark 
me. 

Glo. Alack, alack the day ! 

Lear, When we are born, we cry that we are 
come 

To this great stage of fools ; Tnis a good 

block? 13 



10 i. e. support or uphold them. So Chapman, in the 
Widow's Tears, 1612 :— 

' Admitted ! ay, into her heart, and I'll able it.' 
Again, in his version of the twenty-third Illiad : — 

' I'll able this 

For five revolved years.' 

11 Impertinency here is used in its old legitimate 
sense of something not belonging to the subject. 

12 ' The childe feeles that, the man that feeling knowes, 
Which cries first borne, the presage of his life,' &c. 

Sidney's Jlrcadia. lib. ii. 
The passage is, however, evidently taken from Pliny, 
as translated by Philemon Holland, Proeme to b. vii.: — 
; Man alone, poor wretch [nature] hath laid all naked 
upon the bare earth, even on his birthday to cry ana 
wrawle presently from the very first houre that he is 
borne into this world.' — Douce. 

13 Upon the king's saying ' I will preach to thee,' the 
poet seems to have meant him to pull off his hat, and 
keep turning it and feeling it, in the attidude of one of 
the preachers of those times (whom I have seen re- 
presented in ancient prints) till the idea of felt which 
the good hat or block was made of, raises the stratagem 
in his brain of shoeing a troop of horse with the [same 
substance] which he held and moulded between his 
hands. So in Decker's Gull's Hornbook, 1G09 :— ' That 
cannot observe the tune of his hatband, nor know what 
fashioned block is most kin to his head : for in my opin- 
ion the brain cannot chuse his felt well.' Again, in 
Run and a Great Cast, no date, Epigram 46, in Sexti- 
num : — 

' A pretty blocke Sextinus names his hat, 

So much the fitter for his head by that.' 
This delicate stratagem is mentioned by Ariosto : — 

' fece nel cadar strepito qnanto 

Avesse avuto sottoi piediil/e/Jro.' 
So in Fenton's Tragical Discourses, 4to. blk. 1. 1567:— 
' He attyreth himself for the purpose in a night-gowna 



Scene VI. 



KING LEAR. 



42S 



It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
A troop of horse with felt : I'll put it in proof; 
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law, 
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. 1 

Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants. 

Gent. O, here he is, lay hand upon him. — Sir, 

Your most dear daughter 

Lear. No rescue '! What, a prisoner ? I am even 
The natural fool of fortune. 2 — Use me well ; 
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon, 
1 am cut to the brains. 

Gent. You shall have any thing. 

Lear. No seconds ? All myself ? 
Why, this would make a man, a man of salt, 5 
To use his eyes for garden water-pots, 
Ay, and for laying autumn's dust. 

Gent. Good sir, — 

Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom : 
What ? 
I will be jovial ; come, come ; I am a king, 
My masters, know you that ! 

Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. 
Lear. Then there's life in it. 4 Nay, an you get it, 
you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. s 

[Exit, running ; Attendants follow. 
Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; 
Past speaking of in a king ! — Thou hast one daughter 
Who redeems nature from the general curse 
Which twain have brought her to. 
Edg. Hail, gentle sir. 

Gent. Sir, speed you : What's your will? 

Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward ? 
Gent. Most sure and vulgar : every one hears 
that, 
Which can distinguish sound. 

Edg. But, by your favour, 

How near's the other army ? 

Gent. Near, and on speedy foot, the main descry 
Stands on the hourly thought. 6 
Edg. I thank you, sir : that's all. 

Gent. Though that the queen on special cause is 
here, 
Her aitny is mov'd on. 
Edg. I thank you, sir. [Exit Gent. 

Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from 
me ; 
Let not my worser spirit 7 tempt me again 
To die before you please ! 
Edg. Well pray you, father. 

Glo. Now, good sir, what are you ? 
Edg. A most poor man, made lame by fortune's 
blows : 8 
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 9 
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, 
I'll lead you to some biding. 



girt to hym, with a payre of shoes of felte leaste the 
noyse ot his feete might discover his goinge,' p. 58. — 
It had, however, been actually put in practice about 
fifty years before Shakspeare was born, at a tournament 
held at Lisle before Henry the VIII. [Oct. 13, 1513,] 
where the horses, to prevent their sliding on a black 
stone pavement, were shod with felt or Jlqfks (fellro 
sive tomenlo.) See Lord Herbert's Life ol'King Henry 
VIII. p. 41. 

*. This was the cry formerly in the English army 
when an onset was made on the enemy. So in Venus 
and Adonis : — 

' Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny, 
And in a peaceful hour doth cry, Kill, hill.' 

2 So in Romeo and Juliet : — ' O, lam fortune's fool.' 

3 ' A man oCsalf is a man of tears. In All's Well 
that Ends Well, we meet with ' Your salt tears 
head.' And in Troilus and Cressida, ' the salt of 
broken tears.' Again, in Coriolanus : — 

' He has betray'd your business, and given up, 
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome.' 

4 The case is not yet desperate. So in Antony and 
Cleopatra : — ' There's sap in't yet.' 

5 Mr. Boswell thinks that this passage seems to prove 
that sessa means the very reverse of cessez. See 
p. 414, and p. 416, note 13, ante. 

6 The main body is expected to be descried every 
hour. 

3D 



Gin. Hearty thanks : 
The bounty and the benizon of heaven 
To boot, and boot ! 

Enter Steward. 

Stew. A proclaim'd prize I Most happy ! 

That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh 
To raise my fortunes. — Thou old unhappy traitor, 
Briefly thyself remember : 10 — The sword is out 
That must destroy thee. 

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand 

Put strength enough to it. [Edgar opposes. 

Stew. Wherefore, bold peasant, 

Dar'st thou support a pubhsh'd traitor ? Hence ; 
Lest that the infection of his fortune take 
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. 

Edg. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. 

Stew. Let go, slave, or thou diest. 

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, 11 and let 
poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out 
of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a 
vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man ; keep 
out, che vor'ye, 12 or ise try whether your costard 13 
or my bat be the harder : Ch'ill be plain with you. 

Stew. Out, dunghill ! 

Edg. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir ; Come ; no mat • 
ter vor your foins. 1 * 

[They fight; and Edgar knocks him down. 

Slew. Slave, thou hast slain me : — Villain, take 
my purse; 
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body ; 
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me, 
To Edmund earl of Gloster ; seek him out 

Upon the British party : O, untimely death 

[Dies. 

Edg. I know thee well : A serviceable villain ; 
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress, 
As badness would desire. 

Glo. What, is he dead ? 

Edg. Sit you down, father ; rest you. — 
Let's see his pockets ; these letters, that he speaks of, 
May be my friends. — He's dead : I am only sorry 
He had no other deathsman. — Let us see : 
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: 
To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts 
Their papers, is more lawful. 15 

[Reads.) Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. 
You have many opportunities to cut him off"; if your 
will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. 
There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror : 
Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol ; from 
the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the 
place for your labour. 

Your wife, (so I would say,) and yow 
affectionate servant, 

GoNERIL. 

O undistinguish'd space of woman's will J16 — 

A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ; 

And the exchange, my brother ! — Here, in the sands, 

7 By this expression may be meant. '■my evil genius.' 

8 The folio reads ' made tame by fortune's blows.' 
The original is probably the true reading. So in Shak- 
speare's thirty-seventh Sonnet: — 

' So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spight.' 

9 Feeling is probably used here for felt. Sorrows 
known not by relation, but by experience. Warburton 
explains it, ' Sorrows past and present.' 

10 i. e. ' quickly recollect the past offences of thy life, 
and recommend thyself to heaven.' 

11 Gang your gait, is a common expression in the 
north. In the last rebellion, the Scotch soldiers, when 
they had finished their exercise, were dismissed by this 
phrase, ' gang your gaits.' 

12 i. e. I warn you. When our ancient writers have 
occasion to introduce a rustic, they commonly allot 
him the Somersetshire dialect. Gokling, in his transla- 
tion of the second book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, 
makes Mercury, assuming the appearance of a clown, 
speak with the provinciality of Edgar. 

13 i. e. head. A bat is a staff. It is the proper name 
of a walking-stick in Sussex even at this day. 

14 i. e. thrusts. 

15 i. e. to rip their papers is more lawful. 

16 This seems to me to mean, ' O how inordinate, how 
unbounded is the licentious inclination of women. 



426 



KING LEAR. 



Act IV. 



Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified 1 
Of murderous lechers : and, in the mature time, 
With this ungracious paper strike the sight 
Of the death-practis'd duke : 2 for him 'tis well, 
That of thy death and business I can tell. 

[Exit Edgar, dragging out the Body. 

Glo. The king is mad : How stiff is my vile sense, 
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling 3 
Of my huge sorrows ! Better I were distract : 
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs ; 
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose 
The knowledge of themselves. 

Re-enter Edgar. 

Edg. Give me your hand : 

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. 
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VII. A Tent in the French Camp. Lear 
on a Bed asleep : Physician, Gentleman, 4 and 
others attending : Enter Cordelia and Kent. 

Cor. O, thou good Kent, how shall I live, and 
work, 
To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short, 
And everv measure fail me. 

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid. 
All my reports go with the modest truth ; 
Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. 

Cor. Be better suited : 5 

These weeds are memories 6 of those worser hours ; 
I pr'ythee, put them off. 

Kent. Pardon me, dear madam ; 

Yet to be known, shortens my made intent :' 
Mv boon I make it, that you know me not, 
Till time and I think meet. 

Cor. Then be it so, my good lord. — How does 
the king ? [To the Physician. 

Phys. Madam, sleeps still. 

Cor. O, you kind cods, 
Cure this great breach in his abused nature ! 
The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up, 
Of this child-changed father ! 8 

Phys. So please your majesty, 

That we may wake the king ? he hath slept long. 

Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed 
I' the swav of your own will. Is he arrav'd ? 

Gent. Ay, madam ; in the heaviness of his sleep, 
We put fresh garments on him. 

Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake 
him ; 
I doubt not of his temperance. 

Cor. Very will. 



1 ' Thee Til rake up, the post unsanctified,'' &c. 

i. e. I'll cover thee. In Staffordshire, to rale the fire, is 
to cover it for the night. Unsanctified refers to his want 
of burial in consecrated ground. 

2 That is, the Duke of Albany, whose death is ma- 
chinated bv practice or treason. 

3 c Ingenious feeling.' Bullokar, in his Expositor, 
interprets ingenious by quick conceited, i. e. acute. 
This makis Warburton's paraphrase unnecessary. 

4 In the folio, the Gentleman ami the Physician are 
one and the same person. 

5 i.e. be better dressed, put on a better suit of clothes. 

6 Memories are memorials. 

7 A made intent is an intent formed. We say in 
common language to make a design, and to make a 
resolution. 

8 That is, changed by his children ; a father whose 
jarring senses have been untuned by the monstrous in- 
gratitude of his daughters. So care-crazed, crazed by 
care ; wo-teearied, wearied by wo, &c. 

9 This and the foregoing speech are not in the folio. 
It has been already observed that Shakspeare consider- 
ed so/7 music as'favourable to sleep. Lear, we may 
suppose, had been thus composed to rest ; and now the 
Physician desires louder music to be played, for the pur- 
pose of waking him. So again in Pericles, Cerimon, 
to recover Thaisa, who had been thrown into the sea, 
says : — 

' The rough and wofu! music that we have, 
Cause it to sound, beseech you.' 
Again in the Winter's Tale : — 

' Music aicake her, strike !' 
19 Restoration is no more than recovery personified. 



Phys. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music 
there. 9 

Cor. O, my dear father ! Restoration,' hang 
Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss 
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters 
Have in thy reverence made! 

Kent. Kind and dear princess! 

Cor. Had you not been their father, these whits 
flakes 
Had challeng'd pity on them. Was this a face 
To be expos'd against the warring winds ? 
[To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? 
In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch (poor perdu !) 
With this thin helm?"] Mine enemy s dog, 
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night 
Against my fire ; And wast thou fain, poor father, 
To hovel th.ee with swine, and rogues forlorn, 
In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack ! 
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once 
Had not concluded all. 12 — He wakes ; speak to him. 

Phys. Madam, do you ; 'tis fittest. 

Cor. How does my royal lord ? How fares your 
majesty ? 

Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the 
grave : — 
Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead. 

Cor. Sir, do you know me ? 

I^ear. You are a spirit, I know ; When did you die ? 

Cor. Still, still, far wide! 

Phys. He's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile. 

Lear. Where have I been ? Where am I ? — Fair 
day-light ?- 
lam mightily abus'd. 13 — I should even die with pity, 
To see another thus. — I know not what to say. — 
I will not swear, these are my hands : — let's see ; 
I feel this pin prick. 'Would, I were assur'd 
Of my condition. 

Cor. O, look upon me sir, 

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me 
No, sir, yon must not kneel. 14 

Ijear. Pray, do not mock me : 

I am a very foolish fond old man, 
Fourscore and upward {*• and, todeal plainly, 
I fear, I am not in my perfcet mind. 
Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ■ 
Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant 
What place this is ; and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not 
Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me ; 

11 The lines in crotchets are not in the folio. The al- 
lusion is to the forlorn hope of an army, called in French 
eniavs perdu s ; amongst other desperate adventures in 
which they were engaged, the night-watches seem to 
have been a common one. Warburtnn is wrong in sup. 
posin? that those ordered on such services were lightly 
or badly armed ; the contrary is clearly the fact, and to 
such a fact is the allusion of the poet, ' Poor perdu, you 
are exposed to the most dangerous situation, not with 
the most proper arms, but with a mere helmet of thin 
and hoary hair.' The same allusion occurs in Dave 
nant's Love and Honour, 1649 : 

' I have endured 

Another nieht would tire & perdu 
More than a wet furrow and a ereat frost.' 
So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Little French Lawyer : — 

' I am set here like a perdu 

To watch a fellow that has wrong'd my mistress.' 

12 i. e. had not all ended. So in Timon of Athens :— 

' And dispossess her all.' 

13 I am strangely imposed upon by appearances ; I 
am in a strange mist of uncertainty. 

14 ' This circumstance is found in the old play of King 
Leir, apparently written by another hand, and published 
before any edition of Shakspeare's play had made its 
appearance. As it is always difficult to say whether 
such accidental resemblances proceed from imitation, or 
a similarity of thinking on the same occasion, I can 
only point out this to the reader, to whose determina- 
tion I leave the question.'— Steei^ens. 

15 The folio here adds the words ' not an hour more 
or less.' Which, as they are absurd and superfluous, 
have been justly degraded as the interpolation of some 
inconsiderate player 



Scene VII. 



KING LEAR. 



427 



For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia. 

Cor. And so I am, I am, 

Lear. Be your tears wet ? Yes, 'faith. I pray, 
weep not : 
If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 
I know, you do not love me ; for your sisters 
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong : 
You have some cause, they have not. 

Cor. No cause, no cause. 

Lear. Am I in France ? 

Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. 

Lear. Do not abuse me. 

Phys. Be comforted, good madam : the great rage, 
You see, is cur'd in him : and yet it is danger 
To make him even 1 o'er the time he has lost.] 
Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more, 
Till further settling. 

Cor. Will 't please your highness walk ? 

Lear. You must bear with me : 

'Pray now, forget and forgive : I am old, and foolish. 
£ Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and 
Attendants. 

[Gent. Holds it true, sir, 
That the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? 

Kent. Most certain, sir. 

Gent. Who is conductor of his people ? 

Kent. As 'tis said, 

The bastard son of Gloster. 

Gent. They say, Edgar, 

His banish'd son, is with the Earl of Kent 
In Germany. 

Kent. Report is changeable. 

'Tis time to look about ; the powers o' the kingdom 
Approach apace. 

Gent. The arbitrement is like to be a bloody. 
Fare you well, sir. [Exit. 

Kent. My point and period will be thoroughly 
wrought, 
Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought. 2 ] 

[Exit. 

ACT V. 

SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces, near 
Dover. Enter, ivith Drums, and Colours, Ed- 
mund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and others. 

Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold ; 
Or, whether since he is advis'd by aught 
To change the course : He's full of alteration, 
And self-reproving: — bring his constant pleasure. 3 
[To an Officer, mho goes out. 

Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. 

Edm. 'Tis to be doubted, madam. 

Reg. Now, sweet lord, 

You know the goodness I intend upon you : 
Tell me,— but truly, — but then speak the truth, 
Do you not love my sister ? 

Edm. In honour'd love. 

1 ' To make him even o'er the time he has lost,' 

is to make the occurrences of it plain or level to his 
troubled mind. See Baret's Alvearie, 1573, E. 307. 

2 What is printed in crotchets is not in the folio. It is 
at least proper, if not necessary, and was perhaps only 
omitted by the players to abridge a play oT very con- 
siderable length. 

3 i. e. his settled resolution. 

4 Theirs/ and last of these speeches within crotchets 
are inserted in Hanmer's, Theobald's, and Warburton's 
editions, the two intermediate ones, which were omitted 
in all others, are restored from the 4to. 160S. Whether 
they were left out through negligence, or because the 
imagery contained in them might be thought too luxuri- 
ant, I cannot determine ; but surely a material injury is 
done to the character of the Bastard by the omission ; 
for he is made to deny that flatly at first, which the poet 
only meant to make him evade, or return slight answers 
to, till he is urged so far as to be obliged to shelter him- 
self under an immediate falsehood. Query, however, 
whether Shakspeare meant us to believe that Edmund 
had actually found his way to the foref ended (i. e. for- 
bidden) place ? — Steevens. 

5 Imposes on you ; you are deceived. 

6 ' This business (says Albany) touches us, as France 
invades our land, not as it emboldens or encourages the 



[Reg. But have you never found my brother's way 

To the forefended 4 place ? 

Edm. That thought abuses 5 you, 

Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct 

And bosom'd with her, as far as wc call hers. 
Edm. No, by mine honour, madam.] 
Reg. I never shall endure her : Dear my lord, 

Be not familiar with her. 
Edm. Fear me not : — 

She, and the duke her husband, 

Enter Albany, Goneril, and Soldier 

Gon. I had rather lose the battle, than that sister 
Should loosen him and me. [Aside. 

Alb. Our very loving sister, well be met. — 
Sir, this I hear, — The king is come to his daughter, 
With others, whom the rigour of our state 
Forc'd to cry out. [Where I could not be honest 
I never yet was valiant : for this business, 
It toucheth us as France invades our land, 
Not bolds 6 the king ; with others, whom, I fear, 
More just and heavy causes make oppose. 

Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. 

Reg. Why is this reason'd ? 

Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy : 
For these domestic and particular broils' 
Are not to question here. 

Alb. Let us then determine 

With the ancient of war on our proceedings. 

Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent, 8 

Reg. Sister, you'll go with us ? 

Gon. No. 

Reg. 'Tis most convenient ; 'pray you, go with us. 

Gon. O, ho, I know the riddle : [Aside.] I will go. 

As they are going out, enter Edgar, disguised. 

Edg. If e'er your grace had speech with man so 
poor, 
Hear me one word. 

Ah. I'll overtake you. — Speak. 

[Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Offi- 
cers, Soldiers, and Attendants. 

Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. 
If you have victory, let the trumpet sound 
For him that brought it ; wretched though I seem, 
I can produce a champion, that will prove 
What is avouched there : If you miscarry, 
Your business of the world hath so an end, 
And machination ceases. 9 Fortune love you ! 

Alb. Stay till I have read the letter. 

Edg. I was forbid it, 

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, 
And I'll appear again. [Exit. 

Alb. Why, fare thee well ; I will o'erlook thy 
paper. 

Re-enter Edmund. 

Edm. The enemy's in view, draw up your powers, 
Here is the guess of their true strength and forces 
By diligent discovery $ 10 — but your haste 
Is now urg'd on you. 

Alb.. We will greet the time." [Exit. 



king to assert his former title.' Thus in the ancient 
Interlude of Hycke Scorner : — 

' Alas, that I had not one to bolde me.' 
Again in Arthur Hull's translation of the fourth Iliad, 
4to. 1581 :— 

' And Pallas bolds the Greeks.' &c. 
' To make bolde, to encourage, animum addere.' - 

Baret. 

7 The quartos have it : — 

' For these domestic doore particulars.' 1 
The folio reads in the subsequent line : 
' Are not the question here.' 

8 This speech is wanting in the folio. 

9 i. e. all designs against your life will have an end, 
These words are not in the quartos. 

10 i. e. the conjecture, or what we can gather by dili- 
gent espial, of their strength. So in King Henry IV. 
Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.: — 

' send discoverers forth 

To know the number of our enemies ' 
The passage has only been thought obscure for want of 
a right understanding of the word discovert/, which nei- 
ther Malone nor Steevens seems to have understood 

11 i. e.be ready to meet the occasion. 



428 



KING LEAR. 



Act V. 



Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my 
love ; 
Each jealous of the other, as the stung 
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take ? 
Both! one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd, 
If both remain alive ; To take the widow, 
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ; 
And hardly shall I carry out my side, 1 
Her husband being alive. Now, then, we'll use 
His countenance for the battle ; which being done, 
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise 
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy 
Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia, — 
The battle done, and they within our power, 
Shall never see his pardon : for my state 
Stands on me to defend, not to debate. 2 [Exit. 

SCENE II. A Field between the hoo Camps.— 
Alarum within. Enter, with Drum, and Colours, 
Lear, Cordelia, and their Forces; and exeunt. 
Enter Edgar and Gloster. 3 
Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree 

For your good host ; pray that the right may thrive : 

If ever I return to you again, 

I'll bring you comfort. 

Glo. ' Grace go with you, sir ! 

[Exit Edgar. 

Alarums; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter Edgar. 

Edg. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away ; 
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en : 
Give me thy hand, come on. 

Glo. No further, sir ; a man may rot even here. 

Edg. What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must 
endure 
Their going hence, even as their coming hither : 
Ripeness is all : 4 Come on. 

Glo. And that's true too. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE HI. The British Camp near Dover. Enter, 

in Conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund ; 

Lear and Cordelia, as Prisoners; Officers, 

Soldiers, $-c. 

Edm. Some officers take them away ; good guard; 
Until their greater pleasure first be known 
That are to censure 5 them. 

Cor. We are not the first, 

Who, with the best meaning, have incurr'd the 

worst." 
For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down ; 
Myself could else outfrown false fortune's frown. 
Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters? 

Lear. No, no, no, no ! Come, let's away to prison : 
We two alone will sing like birds i' the casie : 
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, 
And ask of thee forgiveness : So we'll live, 
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 



1 Hardly shall I be able to make my side (i. e. my 
parly) good ; to maintain the game. Steeven9 has 
shown that it was a phrase commonly used at cards. 
So in the Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 155: — ' Heydon's 
son hath borne out the side, stoutly here,' &c. 

2 'Such is my determination concerning Lear; as 
for my state, it requires now not deliberation, but de- 
fence and support.' 

3 Those who are curious to know how far Shak- 
speare was indebted to the Arcadia, will find a chapter 
entitled 'The Piiifull State and Storie of the Paphla- 
gonian unkinue King, and his kinde Sonne ; first related 
by the Sonne, then" by the blinde Father,' at p. 141 of 
the edition of 1590, 4to. 

4 i. e. to be ready, prepared, is all. So in Hamlet : — 
' If it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.'' 

5 i.e. to pass sentence or judgment on them. So in 
Othello : — ' Remains the censure of this hellish villain.' 

6 That is ' the worst that fortune can inflict.' 

7 'As if we were angels, endowed with the power of 
prying into the original motives of action and the mys- 
teries of conduct.' 

8 Packs and sects are combinations and parlies. 

9 The thought is extremely noble, and expressed in a 
sublime of imagery that Seneca fell short of on a simi- 
lar occasion: — 'Ecce spectaculum di?num ad quod res- 
piciat intenti operi suo deus ; ecce par deo dignum vir 
fbrtis cum mala fortuna compositus.' — Warburton. 



At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 

Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too, 

Who lo=es, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; — 

And take upon us the mystery of things, 

As if we were God's spies:' And we 1 ': wear out, 

In a wall'd prison, packs and sects* of great ones, 

That ebb and flow by the moon. 

Edm. Take them away, 

Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Ccrdelia, 
The gods themselves throw incense. 9 Have I caught 

thee ? 
He, that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven, 
And fire us hence, like foxes. 10 Wipe thine eyes; 
The goujeers shall devour them, flesh and fell, 11 
Ere they shall make us weep : we'll see them starve 

first. 
Come.' [Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded. 

Edm. Come hither, captain ; hark. 
Take thou this note ; 12 [Giving a Paper] go, follow 

them to prison : 
One step I have advane'd thee ; if thou dost 
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way 
To noble fortunes : Know thou this, — that men 
Are as the time is : to be tender-minded 
Does not become a sword : — Thy great employment 
Will not bear question : ,a either say, thou'lt do't, 
Or thrive by other means. 

Off. I'll do't, my lord. 

Edm. About it ; and write happy, when thou hast 
done. 
Mark, — I say instantly ; and carry it so, 
As I have set it down. 

Off. I cannot, draw a cart, nor eat dried oats ; 
If it be man's work, I will do it. [Exit Officer. 

Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Offi- 
cers, and Attendants. 

Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant 
strain, 
And fortune led you well : You have the captives 
Who were the opposites of this day's strife : 
We do require them of you ; so to use them, 
As we shall find their merits and our safety 
May equally determine. 

Edm. Sir, I thought it fit 

To send the old and miserable king 
To some retention, and appointed guard ; 
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, 
To pluck the common bosom on his side, 
And turn our impress'd lances 14 in our eyes 
Which do command them. With him I sent the 

queen ; 
My reason all the same ; and they are ready 
To-morrow, or at further space, to appear 
Where you shall hold your session. [At this time 



10 Alluding to the eld practice of smoking foxes out of 
their holes. So in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, 
b. xxvii. stan. 17 : — 

' E'en as a fore whom smoke andflre doth fright, 
So as he dare not in the ground remaine. 
Bolts out, and through the amok e nnrl fire he flieth 
Into the tarrier's mouth, and there he dieth.' 

11 ' The goujeers shall devour them flesh and/eW.' 
The goujeers, i. e. morbus Gallicus. Gouge. Fr. is a 
soldier's trull ; and as the disease was first dispersed 
over Europe by the French army, and the women who 
followed it, the first name it obtained among us was 
the goujeries, i. e. the disease of the gouges. — Hanmer 
The expression, however, soon became obscure, its 
origin not being generally known, and it was at length 
corrupted to the good year; a very opposite form of 
expression. In the present instance the quartos, follow- 
ing the common corruption, have the good yeares. 
Flesh and fell is flesh and sidnt Thus in The Specu- 
lum Vitse, MS. :— 

' That alle men sal a domesday rise 
Oute of their graves in fleshe and felle.'' 

So in The Dyar's Playe, Chester Mysteries, MS. in the 

Brit. Museum : — 

' I made thee man of flesh and fell.' 

12 This was a warrant signed by the Bastard and Go 
neril, for the execution of Lear and Cordelia, referred 
to in a subsequent scene by Edmund. 

13 i. e. admit of debate. 

14 That is the lancemen we have hired by giving thea 
press-money 



Scene III. 



KING LEAR. 



429 



W e sweat and Weed : the friend hath lost his friend : 
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd 
By those that feel their sharpness : — 
The question of Cordelia, and her father, 
Requires a fittter place. 1 ] 

Alb. Sir, by your patience, 

I hold you but a subject of this war, 
Not as a brother. 

Reg. That's as we list to grace him. 

Methinks, our pleasure might have been demanded, 
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers ; 
Bore the commission 2 of my place and person ; 
The which immediacy 3 may well stand up, 
And call itself your brother. 

Gon. Not so hot : 

In his own grace 4 he doth exalt himself, 
More than in your advancement. 

Reg. In my rights, 

By me invested, he compeers the best. 

Gon. That were the most, if he should husband 
you. 5 

Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. 

Gon. Hollr, holla ! 

That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint. s 

Reg. Lady, I am not well ; else I should answer 
From a full flowing stomach. — General, 
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony ; 
Dispose of them, of me ; the walls are thine : 7 
Witness the world, that I create thee here 
My lord and master. 

Gon. Mean you to enjoy him ? 

Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will. 8 

Edm. Nor in thine, lord. 

Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. 

Reg. Let the drum strike, and prove my title 
thine. 3 [To Edmund. 

Alb. Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest 
thee 
On capital treason; and, in thine, attaint 10 
This gilded serpent: [Pointing to Gon.] — for your 

claim, fair sister, 
I bar it in the interest of my wife ; 
'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord, 
And I, her husband, contradict your bans. 
If you will marry, make your love to me, 
My lady is bespoke. 

Gon. An interlude ! 

Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloster : — Let the trumpet 
sound : 
If none appear to prove upon thy person, 
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, 
There is my pledge ; [Throwing down a Glove.] 

I'll prove it on thy heart, 
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 
Than I have here proclaim'd thee. 

Reg. Sick, O, sick! 

Gon. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison. [Aside. 

Edm. There's my exchange : [Throwing down a 
Glove] what in the world he is 
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies : 



1 i. e. the determination of what shall be done with 
Cordelia, and her father, should be reserved for greater 
privacy. 

2 Commission for authority. 

3 Immediacy is, I think, close and immediate con- 
nexion with me, and direct authority from me. Imme- 
diate is the reading of the quartos. 

4 Grace here means noble deportment. The folio 
has addition instead of advaneement in the next line. 

5 ' If he were married to you, you could not say more 
than this, nor could he enjoy greater power.' In the folio 
this line is given to Albany. 

6 Alluding to the proverb, 'Love being jealous makes 
a good eye look asquint.' So Milton : — 

' And gladly banish squint suspicion.'' Comus. 

7 A metaphor taken from the camp, and signifying 
to surrender at discretion. This line is not in the 
quartos. 

8 ' To obstruct their union lies not in your good plea- 
sure, your veto will avail nothing.' 

9 It appears from this speech that Regan did not 
Know that Albany had discharged her forces. This 
line is given to Edmund in the quartos. 

10 The folio reads ' thy arrest.' 



Call by thy trumpet : he 'I.at dares approach, 
On him, on you, (who not?) I will maintain 
My truth and honour firmly. 

Alb. A herald, ho ! 

Edm. A herald, ho, a herald ! 

Alb. Trust to thy single virtue ;*> for thy soldiers, 
All levied in my name, have in my name 
Took their discharge. 

Reg. This sickness grows upon me 

Enter a Herald. 
Alb. She is not well ; convey her to my tent. 

[Exit Regan, led. 
Come hither, herald. — Let the trumpet sound, — 
And read out this. 

Off. Sound, trumpet. [A Trumpet sounds. 

Herald redds. 
If any man of quality, or degree, witliin the lists q, 
the army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed earl 
of Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, let him ap- 
pear at the third sound of the trumpet : He is bold in 
his defence. 
Edm. Sound. [1 Trumpet. 

Her. Again. [2 Trumpet. 

Her. Again. [3 Trumpet. 

[Trumpet answers within 

Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a Trumpet 

Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears 
Upon this call o' the trumpet. 12 

Her. What are you ? 

Your name, your quality ? and why you answer 
This present summons ? 

Edg. Know, my name is lost ; 

By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit : 
Yet am I noble as the adversary 
I come to cope withal. 

Alb. Which is that adversary ? 

Edg. What's he, that speaks for Edmund ear. o? 
Gloster ? 

Edm. Himself; — What say'st thou to him ? 

Edg. Draw thy sword y 

That if my speech offend a noble heart, 
Thy arm may do thee justice : here is mine. 
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, 
My oath, and my profession : 13 I protest, — 
Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence. 
Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune, 
Thy valour, and thy heart, — thou art a traitor : 
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father ; 
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince ; 
And, from the extremest upward of thy head, 
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet, 
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No, 
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent 
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, 
Thou liest. 

Edm. In wisdom, I should ask thy name ; 14 

But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, 
And that thy tongue some 'say 1 5 of breeding breathes, 
What safe and nicely 16 I might well delay 



11 i. e. valour ; a Roman sense of the word. Thus 
Raleigh : — ' The conquest of Palestine with singular 
virtue they performed.' 

12 This is according to the ceremonials of the trial by 
combat in cases criminal. ' The appellant and his pro- 
curator first come to the gate. The constable and 
marshall demand by voice of herald, what he is, and 
why he comes so arrayed.' — Selden's Duello. 

13 'Here I draw my sword. Behold, it is the privi- 
lege or right of my profession to draw it against a trai- 
tor.' It is the right of bringing the charge, and main- 
taining it with his sword, which Edgar calls the privilege 
of his profession. 

14 Because, if his adversary was not of equal rank, 
Edmund might have declined the combat. Goneril 
afterwards says : — 

' By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer 
An unknown opposite.' 

15 Say, or assay, is a sample, a taste. So in the 
preface to Maurice Kyffin's translation of the Andria of 
Terence, 1583 : — ' Some other like places I could recite, 
but these shall suffice for a say.' 

16 ' What safe and nicely I might well delay.' 
This seems to mean ' What I might safely well delay, 



450 



KING LEAR. 



Act V; 



By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn: 
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ; 
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart ; 
Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,) 
This sword of mine shall give them instant way, 
Where they shall rest forever. 1 — Trumpets, speak. 
[Alarums. They Jight, Edmund falls. 
Alb. O, save him, save him ! 2 
Gon. This is mere practice, Gloster: 

By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer 
An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquish'd, 
But cozen'd ana beguil'd. 

Alb. Shut your mouth, dame, 

Or with this paper shall I stop it : — Hold, sir: — 
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil : 
No tearing, lady ; I perceive you know it. 

[Gives the Letter to Edmund. 
Gon. Say, if I do ; the laws are mine, not thine : 
Who shall arraign me for't ? 

Alb. Most monstrous ! 

Know'st thou this paper ? s 

Gon. Ask me not what I know. 

[Exit Goneril. 
Alb. Go after her : she'« desperate ; eovern her. 
[To an Officer, who goes out. 
Edm. What you have charg'd me with, that have 
1 done ; 
And much more : the time will bring it out ; 
'Tis past, and so am I : But what art thou, 
That hast this fortune on me ? If thou art noble, 
I do forgive thee. 

Edg. Let's exchange charity. 4 

I arn no less in blood than thou art, Edmund ; 
If more, the more ihou hast wrong'd me. 
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. 
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to scourge us: 1 
The dark and vicious place where thee he got, 
Cost him his eyes. 

Edm. Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true ; 

The wheel is come full circle ; I am here. 

Alb. Methought, thy very gait did prophesy 
A royal nobleness: — I must embrace thee j 
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I 
Dili hate thee, or thy father. 

Edg. Worthy prince, I know't. 

Alb. Where have you hid yourself? 
How have you known the miseries of your father? 
Edg. By nursiug them, my lord. — List a brief 
tale : — 
And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst ! 
The bloody proclamation to escape, 
That follow'd me so near, (O, our lives' sweetness ! 
That we the pain of death would hourly die, 6 
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift 
Into a madman's rags ; to assume a semblance 
That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit 



if I acted /iiinrtilioiixh/.' This line is omitted in the 
quartos, but without it the subsequent line is nonsense. 

1 To that place where they shall rest for ever : i. e. 
thy heart. 

2 Albany desires that Edmund's life may be spared 
at present, only to obtain his confession, and to convict 
him openly by his own letter. 

3 'Knowest thou these letters ?> says Leir to Regan, 
in the old anonymous play, when he shows her both 
her own and her sister's letters, which were written to 
procure his death, upon which she snatches the letters 
and tears them. 

4 Shakspeare gives his heathens the sentiments and 
practices of Christianity. In Hamlet there is the same 
6olemn act of final reconciliation, but with exact pro- 
priety, for the personages are Christians : — 

' Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.' 

5 The folio reads ' to plague us.' 

6 'To die hourly the pains of death.' is a periphrasis 
for ' to suffer hourly the pains of death.' The quartos 
read : — 

' That with the pain of death would hourly die.' 

7 So in Pericles : — 

' Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels 
Which Pericles hath lost.' 

8 The lines within crotchets are not in the folio. 

9 Of this difficult passage, which is probablv corrupt, 
Rteevens gives the following explanation :— ' This would 



Met I my father with his bleeding rings, 
Their precious stones new lost ;* became his guide, 
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair ; 
Never, (O, fault !) reveal'd myself unto him, 
Until, some half hour past, ■when I was arm'd, 
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
I ask'd his blessing, and, from first to last, 
Told him my pilgrimage ; But his fiaw'd heart, 
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support !) 
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, 
Burst smilingly. 

Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me, 

And shall, perchance, do good : but speak you on ; 
You look as you had something more to say. 

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in ; 
For I am almost ready to dissolve, 
Hearing of this. 

8 [Edg. This would have seem'd a period 

To such as love not sorrow, but another, 
To amplify too much, would make much more, 
And top extremity. 9 

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man, 
Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then finding 
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms 
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out 
As he'd burst heaven: threw him 10 on my father ; 
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him, 
That ever ear receiv'd : which in recounting 
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
Began to crack : Twice then the trumpet sounded, 
And there I left him trane'd. 

Alb. But who was this ? 

Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent ; who in dis- 
guise 
Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service 
Improper for a slave.] 

Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody Knife. 

Gent. Help ! help ! O, help ! 

Edg. What kind of help? 

Alb. Speak, man. 

Edg. What means that bloody knife ? 

Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes ; 
It came even from the heart of 

Alb. Who, man ? speak. 

Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady : and her sister 
By her is poison'd ; she hath confess'd it." 

Edm. I was contracted to them both ; all three 
Now marry in an instant. 

Alb. Produce their bodies,bc they alive or dead !— 
This judgment of the heavens, that makes us trem- 
ble, 
Touches us not with pity. 12 [Exit Gentleman. 

Enter Kent. 

Edg. Here comes Kent, sir. 

Alb. O ! it is he. 



have seemed a period to such as love not sorrow, but — 
another, i. e. but I must add another, i. e. another period, 
another kind of conclusion to my story, such as will 
increase the horrors of what has been already told.' It 
will be necessary, if we admit this interpretation, to 
point the passage thus : — 

' but another : — 

(To amplify too much, would make much more, 

And top extremity,) 

Whilst I was big,' &c. 
Malone's explanation is: — 'This would have seemed 
the utmost completion of woe, to such as do not delight 
in sorrow, but anothir, of a different disposition, to 
amplify misery " would give more strength to that 
which hath too much."' Referring to the Bastard's 
desiring to hear more, and to Albany's thinking that 
enough had been said. 

10 The quartos read 'threw me on my father.' — 
Steevens thus defends the present reading :— ' There is 
a tragic propriety in Kent's throwing himself on the 
body of a deceased friend ; but this propriety is lost in 
the act of clumsily tumbling a son over the lifelesa 
remains of his father.' 

11 Thus the quarto. The folio reads ' she confesses it.' 

12 ' If e hakspeare had studied Aristotle all his life, he 
would not, perhaps, have been able to mark with more 
precision the distinct operations of terror ani pity.'' 
Tijrw/titt. 



Scene III. 



KJtNG LEAK. 



431 



The time will not allow the compliment, 
Which very manners urges. 

Kent. I am come 

To bid my kino and master aye good night ; 
Is he not (ere ? 

Alb. Great thing of us forgot ! — 

Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's 

Cordelia 1 — 
See'st thou this object, Kent? 

[The Bodies of Goneril and Regan are 
brought in. 

Kent. Alack, why thus ? 

Edm. Yet Edmund was belov'd : 

The one the other poison'd for my sake, 
And after slew herself. 

Alb. Even so. — Cover their faces. 

Edm. I pant for life : — Some good I mean to do, 
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, — 
Be brief in it, — to the castle, for my writ 
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia : — 
Nay, send in time. 

Alb. Run, run, O, run — 

Edg. To whom, my lord ? — Who has the office ? 
send 
Thy token of reprieve. 

Edm. Well thought on ; take my sword, 
Give it the captain. 

Alb. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit Edcar. 

Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me 
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and 
To lay the blame upon her own despair, 
That she fordid 1 herself. 

Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him hence 
awhile. [Edmund is borne off. 

Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his Arms; 2 
Edgar, Officer, and others. 

Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl! — O, you are men 
of stones ; 
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so 
That heaven's vault should crack : — O, she is gone 

for ever ! — 
I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; 
She's dead as earth : — Lend me a looking-glass ; 
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, 
Why, then she lives. 

Kent. Is this the promis'd end ? 3 

Edg. Or image of that horror ? 

Alb. Fall, and cease ! 4 

Lear. This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so, 



1 To fordo signifies to destroy. It is used again in 
Hamlet, Act v. : — 

' did, with desperate hand, 

Fordo its own life.' 

2 The old historians say that Cordelia retired with vic- 
tory from the battle, which she conducted in her father's 
cause, and thereby replaced him on the throne : but in a 
subsequent one fought against her, (after the death of 
the old king,) by the sons of Regan and Goneril, she 
was taken, and died miserably in prison (Geoffrey, of 
Monmouth, the original relater of the story, says that 
ehe killed herself.) The dramatic writers of Shak- 
epeare's age suffered as small a number of their heroes 
and heroines to escape as possible ; nor could the filial 
piety of this lady, any more than the innocence of 
Ophelia, prevail on the poet to extend her life beyond 
her misfortunes. — Steevens. 

3 Kent, in contemplating the unexampled scene of ex- 
quisite affection which was then before him, arid the un- 
natural attempt of Goneril and Regan against their fa- 
ther's life, recollects those passages of St. Mark's Gos- 
pel in which Christ foretells to his disciples the end of 
the world, and hence his question, ' Is this the promised 
end of all things, which has been foretold to us ?' To 
which Edgar adds, or only a representation or resem- 
blance of that horror ? So Macbeth, when he calls 
upon Banquo, Malcolm, &c. to view Duncan murdered, 
says : — 

' up, up, and see 

The great doom's image ! Malcolm ! Banquo ! 

As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, 

To countenance this horror.' 
There is an allusion to the same passage of Scripture 
in a speech of Gloster's in the second scene of the first 
a;t. — Mason. 

4 To cease, is to die. Albany is looking with atten- 



It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt. 

Kent. O, my good master ! [Kneeling, 

Lear. 'Pr'ythee, away. 

Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. 

Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! 
I might have sav'd her ; now she's gone for ever ' 
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha ! 
What is't thou say'st ? — Her voice was ever soft, 
Gentle, and low ; an excellent thing in woman :— 
I kill'd the slave that was a-haneing thee. 

Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did. 

Lear. Did I not, fellow ? 

I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion 
I would have made them skip: 5 I am old now. 
And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you? 
Mine eyes are none o' the best: — I'll tell you straight. 

Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated, 
One of them we behold. 6 

Lear. Thisis a dull sight :' Are you not Kent ? 

Kent. The same ; 

Your servant Kent : Where is your servant Caius ? 

Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that ; 
He'll strike, and quickly too : — He's dead and rotten. 

Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very man ;— 

Lear. I'll see that straight. 

Kent. That from your first of difference and decay, 
Have follow'd your sad steps. 

Lear. You are welcome hither. 

Kent. Nor no man else ; all's cheerless, dark, 
and deadly. — 
Your eldest daughters have fore-doom'd 3 them- 
selves, 
And desperately are dead. 

Lear. Ay, so I think. 

Alb. He knows not what he sees ; and vain it ia 
That we present us to him. 

Edg. Very bootless. 

Enter aft Officer. 

Off. Edmund is dead, my lord. 

Alb. That's but a trifle here.— 

You lords, and noble friends, know our intent. 
What comfort to this great decay 9 may come, 
Shall be applied : for us, we will resign, 
During the life of this old majesty, 
To him our absolute power : — You, to your rights ; 
[To Edgar and Kent. 
With boot, and such addition as your honours 



tion on the pains employed by Lear to recover his child, 
and knows to what miseries he must survive, when he 
finds them to be ineffectual. Having these images pre- 
sent to his eyes and imagination, he cries out, ' Rather 
fall, and cease to be at once, than continue in existence 
only to be wretched.' 

5 It is difficult for an author who never peruses his 
first works to avoid repeating some of the same thoughts 
in his later productions. What Lear has just said "has 
been anticipated by Justice Shallow, in The Merry 
Wives of Windsor: — 'I have seen the time with my 
long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip 
like rats.' It is again repeated in Othello : — 

' I have seen the day 

That with this little arm and this good sword 
I have made my way,' &c. 

6 ' If Fortune, to display the plenitude of her power, 
should brag of two persons, one of whom she had highly 
elevated, and the other she had wofully depressed we 
now behold the latter.' The quarto reads ' She lov'd or 
hated,' which confirms this sense. 

7 I think, with Mr. Blakeway, that Lear means his 
eyesight was bedimmed either by excess of grief, or, as 
is usual, by the approach of death. So in Baret, '■Dull 
eyes, inertes oculi :' — ' To dull the eyesight, hebetare 
oculos.' Albany says of Lear below, ' He knows not 
what he sees,' where the folio erroneously reads 'he 
says.' 

8 Thus the quartos : the folio reads foredone, which 
is probably right. See note 1, in the preceding column. 

9 'This great decay' is Lear, whom Shakspeare 
poetically calls so ; and means the same as if he had 
said, ' this piece of decayed royalty,' ' this ruined ma 
jesty.' G'.oster calls him in a preceding scene ' ruin d 
piece of nature.' 



432 



RING LEAR. 



Act V< 



Have more than merited :' — All friends shall taste 
The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
The cup of their deservings. — O, see, see ! 

hear. And my poor fool is hang'd '2 No, no, no 
life : 
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 
And thou no breath at all ? O, thou wilt come no 

more, 
Never, never, never, never, never ! — 
'Pray you, undo this button : Thank you, sir. — 
Do you see this ? — Look on her, — look, — her lips, — 
Look there, look there ! — [He dies. 

Edg. He faints ! — My lord, my lord, — 

Kent. Break, heart ; I pr'ythee, break ! 

Edg. Look up, my lord. 

Kent. Vex not his ghost : O, let him pass ! he 
hates him, 
That would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer. 

Edg. O, he is gone indeed. 

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long : 
He but usurp'd his life. 

Alb. Bear them from hence. — Our present bu- 
siness 
Is general wo. Friends of my soul, you twain 

[To Kent and Edgar. 
Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. 

Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go j 
My master calls, and I must not say, no. 

Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey ; 
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. 
The oldest hath borne most : we, that aro young, 
Shall never see so much, nor live so long. 

[Exeunt, with a dead March. 



THE tragedv of Lear is deservedly celebrated among 
the dramas of Shakspeare. There is perhaps no play 
which keeps the attention so strongly fixed ; which so 
much asitates our passions, and interests our curiosity. 
The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking 
oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes 
of fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill the 
mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and 
hope. There ia no scene which does not contribute to 
the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, 
and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progress 
of the scene. .So powerful is the current of the poet's 
imagination, that the mind,«whichonce ventures within 
it, is hurried irresistibly along. 

On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it 
may be observed, that he is represented according to 



1 These lines are addressed to Kent as well as to Ed- 
gar, else the word honours would not have been in the 
plural number. Boot is advantage, increase. By ho- 
nours is meant, honourable CO 

2 This is an expression of tenderness for his dead 
Cordelia, (not his fool, as some have thought,) on whose 
lips he is still intent, and dies while he is searching (here 
lor indications of life. ' Poor fool,' in the age of Shak- 
speare, was an expression of endearment. So in 
Twelfth Nigut : — ' Alas, poor fool, how have they baf- 
fled thee.' Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona : — 
• Alas, poor fool, why do I pity him ?' With other in- 
stances which will present themselves to the reader's 
memory. The fool of Lear was long ago forgotten ; hav- 
ing filled the space allotted to him in the arrangement 
of the play, he appears to have been silently withdrawn 
in the sixth scene of ihethird act. Besides this, Cordelia 
was recently hanged but we know not that the Fool 
had suffered' in the same manner, nor can imagine why 
he should.— That the thoughts of a father, in the bit- 
terest of all moments, when his favourite child lay dead 
in his arms, should recur to the antic, who had for- 
merly diverted him, has somewhat in it that cannot be 
reconciled to the idea of genuine despair and sorrow. — 
Steevens. 

There is an ingenious note by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 
the variorum Shakspeare, for which I regret I cannot 
find space, sustaining a contrary opinion ; but, as Ma- 
lone observes, ' Lear from the time of his entrance in 
this scene to his littering these words, and from thence 
to his death, is wholly occupied by the loss of his daugh- 
ter. — He is now in the agony of death, and surely at such 
a time, when his heart was just breaking, it would be 
hignly unnatural that he should think of his fool. He 
had just seen his daughter hanged, having unfortunately 
t-een admitted too late to preserve her life, though time 
enough to punish the perpetrator of the act.' 



histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, 
perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity 
and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, 
it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate 
Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one 
daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such 
conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty 
prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, 
by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the 
idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by 
softer manners ; and the truth is, that though he so 
nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes the 
characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds 
the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient 
and modern, English and foreign. 

My learned friend, Mr. Warton, who has, in The 
Jlclventurer, very minutely criticised this play, re- 
marks, that the instances of cruelty are too savage and 
shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys 
the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I 
think, be answered by repeating that the cruelty of the 
daughters is an historical fact, to which the poet has 
added little, having only drawn it into a series of dia- 
logue and action. But I am not able to apologize with 
equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, 
which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic 
exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind 
to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be re- 
membered that our author well knew what would 
please the audience for which he wrote. 

The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the 
action is abundantly recompensed by the addition of 
variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate 
with the chief design, and the opportunity which he 
gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and 
connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, 
to impress this important moral, that villany is never 
at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last termi- 
nate in ruin. 

But though this moral be incidentally enforced, 
Shakspeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish 
in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, 
to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange, 
to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified 
by The Spectator, who blames Tate forgiving Cordelia 
success and happiness in his alteration, and declares, 
that in his opinion the tragedy has lost li a If its beauty. 
Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to 
secure the favourable reception of Cato, the town iras 
poisoned irit/i much falsi and abominable criticism, 
and that endeavours had been used to discredit and de- 
cry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked pros- 
per, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, 
it ia a just representation of the common events 
of human life : but since all reasonable beings naturally 
tice, I cannot easily be persuaded that the ob- 
servation of justice makes a play worse: or that, if 
other excellencies are equal, the audience will not 
always rise better pleased from the final triumph of 
persecuted virtue. 

In the present case the public has decided.* Cor- 
delia, from the time of Tate has always retired with 
victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add 
any thing to the general suffrage, I mii'ht relate, I was 
many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I 
know not whether I ever endured to read again the last 
scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an 
editor. 

There is another controversy amon? the critics con- 
cerning this play. It is disputed whether the predomi- 
nant imai-'e in Lear's disordered mind be the loss of his 
kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, 
a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of 
particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is 
the primary source of hi3 distress, and that the loss of 
royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate 
evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would 
move our compassion but little, did we not rather con 
sider the injured father than the degraded king. 

* Dr. Johnson should rather have said that the ma 
nagers of the theatres royal have decided, and the public 
has been obliged to acquiesce in their decision. The 
altered play has the upper gallery on its side ; the ori 
ginal drama was patronised by Addison : — 

Victrix causa Diis placuit sed victa Catonij 

Steevens. 



f This fool's bolt was shot for the sake of the wretched 
pun drawn from the line of Lucan. Steevens puts the 
opinion of Johnson himself as nothing ; perhaps some 
of his readers may think it equivalent, at least, with 
that of Addison Johnson speaks from his own feelings 
here Addison from a blind deference to the opinion of 
Aristotle.— Pye. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



433 



The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, 
which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken origi- 
nally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Holinahed 
generally copied ; but perhaps immediately from an 
eld historical ballad. My reason for believing that the 
play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad 
to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shak- 
speaxe's nocturnal tempest, which is too" striking to 



have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle : it 
has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifica- 
tions: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array 
it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added 
something to the history, which is a proof that he would 
have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, 
and more must have occurred if he had seen Shak 
speare. JOHNSON 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 



T^HE original relater of this story appears to have 
•*• been Luigi da Porto, a gentleman of Vicenza, who 
died in 1529. His novel seems not to have been printed 
till some years after his death ; being first published at 
Venice, in 1535, under the title of ' La Giulietta :' there 
is, however, a dateless copy by the same printer. In 
the dedication to Madonna Lucina Savorgana, he tells 
her that the story was related to him by one of his 
archers, named Peregrino, a native of Verona, while 
serving in Friuli, to beguile the solitary road that leads 
from Gradisca to Udine. 

Girolamo della Corte, in His History of Verona, re- 
lates it circumstantially as a true event, occurring in 
1303 ;* but Maffei does not give him the highest credit 
as an historian: he carries his history down to the 
year 1560, and probably adopted the novel to grace his 
book. The earlier annalists of Verona, and above all, 
Torello Sarayna, who published, in 1542, ' Le Histoire 
e Fatti de Veronesi nell Tempi d'il Fopolo e Signori 
Scaligeri,' are entirely silent upon the subject, though 
some other domestic tragedies grace their narrations. 

As to the origin of this interesting story, Mr. Doucs 
has observed that its material incidents are to be found 
in the Ephesiacs of Xenophon of Ephesus, a Greek 
romance of the middle ages ; he admits, indeed, that 
this work was not published nor translated in the time 
of Luigi da Porto, but suggests that he might have seen 
a copy of the original in manuscript. Mr. Dunlop, in 
his History of Fiction, has traced it to the thirty-second 
novel of Massuccio Salernitano, whose ' Novelino,' a 
collection of tales, was first printed in 1476. The hero 
of Massuccio is named Mariotto di Giannozza, and his 
catastrophe is different ; yet there are sufficient points 
of resemblance between the two narratives. Mr. Bos- 
vrell observes, that ' we may perhaps carry the fiction 
back to a much greater antiquity, and doubts whether, 
after all, it is not the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, en- 
larged and varied by the luxuriant imagination of the 
novelist.' 

The story is also to be found in the second volume 
of the Novels of Bandello, (Novel ix. ;) and it is remark- 
able that he says it was related to him, when at the 
baths of Caldera, by the Captain Alexander Peiegrino, 
a native of Verona; we may presume the same person 
from whom Da Pono received it : unless this appropri- 
ation is to be considered supposititious. The story also 
exists in Italian verse ; and I had once a glance of a 
copy of it in that form, but neglected to note the title or 
date, and had not time for a more particular examina- 
tion. It was translated from the Italian of Bandello 
into French, by Pierre Boisteau, who varies from his 
original in many particulars ; and, from the French, 
Painter gave a translation in the second volume of his 
Palace of Pleasure, 1567, which he entitled Rhomeo 
and Julietta. From Boisteau's novel the same story 
was, in 1562, formed into an English poem, with con- 
siderable alterations and large additions, by Arthur 
Brooke ; this poem the curious reader will find reprinted 
entire in the variorum editions of Shakspeare : it was 
originally printed by Richard Tottel, with the following 
title : ' The Tragicall Hystorye of Romeus and Juliet, 



* Captain Breval, in his Travels, tells us that he 
was shown at Verona what was called the tomb of 
these unhappy lovers ; and that, on a strict inquiry into 
the histories of Verona, he found that Shakspeare had 
varied very little from the truth, either in the names, 
characters, or other circumstances of this play. The 
fact seems to he, that the invention of the novelist has 
been adopted into the popular history of the city, just 
as Shakspeare's historical dramas furnish numbers 
•with, their notions of the events to which they relate. 

61 



written first in Italian, by Bandell ; and nowe in English, 
by Ar. Br.' Upon this piece Malone has shown, by 
unequivocal testimony, that the play was formed : nu- 
merous circumstances are introduced from the poem, 
which the novelist would not have supplied ; and even 
the identity of expression, which not unfrequently 
occurs, is sufficient to settle the question. Steevens, 
without expressly controverting the fact, endeavoured 
to throw a doubt upon it by his repeated quotations 
from the Palace of Pleasure. In two passages, it is 
true, he has quoted Painter, where Brooke is silent ; 
but very little weight belongs to either of them. In one 
there is very little resemblance ; and in the other the 
circumstance might be inferred from the poem, though 
not exactly specified. The poem of Arthur Brooke was 
republished in 15S7, with the title thus amplified :- - 
' Containing a rare Example of true Constancie : with 
the subtill Counsellsand Practices of an old Fryer, and 
their ill Event.' 

In the preface to Arthur Brooke's poem there is a very 
curious passage, in which he says, ' I saw the same 
argument lately set foorth on stage with more commen- 
dation than I can looke for, (being there much better set 
forth then I have or can doe.') He has not, however, 
stated in what country this play was represented : the 
rude state of our drama, prior to 1562, renders it impro- 
bable that it was in England. ' Yet, (says Mr. Boswell,) 
I cannot but be of opinion that Romeo and Juliet may 
be added to the list, already numerous, of plays in 
which our great poet has had a dramatic precursor, and 
that some slight remains of the old play are still to be 
traced in the earliest quarto.' 

' The story has at all times been eminently popular 
in all parts of Europe. A Spanish play was formed on 
it by Lope de Vega, entitled Los Castelviesy Monteses; 
and another in the same language, by Don Francisco 
de Roxas, under the name of Los Vandos de Verona.. 
In Italy, as may well be supposed, it has not been ne- 
glected. The modern productions on this subject are 
too numerous to be specified ; but, as early as 1578, 
Luigi Groto produced a drama upon the subject, called 
Htulriaiia, of which an analysis may be found in Mr. 
Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy. Groto has 
stated in his prologue, that the story is drawn from the 
ancient history of Adria, his native place ;' so that 
Verona is not the only place that has appropriated this 
interesting fable. 

This has been generally considered one of Shak 
speare's earliest plays ;\ and Schlegel has eloquently- 
said, that ' it shines with the colours of the dawn of 
morning, but a dawn whose purple clouds already an- 
nounce the thunder of a sultry day.' ' Romeo and 
Juliet (says the same admirable critic) is a picture of 
love and its pitiable fate, in a world whose atmosphere 
is too rough for this tenderest blossom of human life. 
Two beings, created for each other, feel mutual love at" 
first glance ; every consideration disappears before the 
irresistible influence of living in one another ; they join- 
themselves secretly, under circumstances hostile in the 



f Malone thinks that the foundation of the play might 
be laid in 1591, and finished in 1596. Mr. George 
Chalmers places the date of its composition m the 
spring of 1592. And Dr. Drake, with greater proba- 
bility, ascribes it to 1593. There are four early quarto 
editions in 1597, 1599, 1609, and one without a date 
The first edition is less ample than those which succeed 
Shakspeare appears to have revised the play; but in 
the succeeding impressions no fresh incidents are intro- 
duced, the alterations are merely additions to the length, 
of particular speeches and scenes The principal vari- 
ations are pointed out in the notes. 



434 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Act L 



highest degiee to their union, relying merely on the 
protection of an invisible power. By unfriendly events 
following blow upon blow, their heroic constancy is 
exposed to all manner of trials, till forcibly separated 
from each other, by a voluntary death they are united 
in the grave to meet again in another world. All this 
is to be found in the beautiful story which Shakspeare 
has not invented, and which, however simply told, will 
always excite a tender sympathy : but it was reserved 
for Shakspeare to unite purity of heart and the glow of 
imagination, sweetness and dignity of manners and 
passionate violence, in one ideal picture. By the man- 
ner in which he has handled it, it has become a glorious 
song of praise on that inexpressible feeling which en- 
nobles the soul, and gives to it its highest sublimity, and 
which elevates even the senses themselves into soul, 
and at the same time is a melancholy elegy on its 
frailty from its own nature and external circumstances ; 
at once the deification and the burial of love. It ap- 
pears here like a heavenly spark, that, descending to 
the earth, is converted into a flash of lightning, by 
which mortal creatures are almost in the same moment 
set on fire and consumed. Whatever is most intoxicat- 
ing in the odour of a southern spring, languishing in 
the song of the nightingale, or voluptuous in the first 
opening of the rose, is to be found in this poem. But 
even more rapidly than the earliest blossoms of youth 
and beauty decay, it hurries on from the first timidly- 
bold declaration of love and modest return, to the most 
unlimited passion, to an irrevocable union; then, 
amidst alternating storms of rapture and despair, to the 
death of the two lovers, who still appear enviable 
as their love survives them, and as by their death 
they have obtained a triumph over every separating 
power. The sweetest and the bitterest, love and hatred, 
festivity and dark forebodings, tender embraces end 
sepulchres, the fulness of life and self-annihilation, are 
all here brought close to each other ; and all these con- 
trasts are so blended in the harmonious and wonderful 
work into a unity of impression, that the echo which 
the whole leaves behind in the mind resembles a single 
but endlesa siirh. 

'The excellent dramatic arrangement, the significa- 
tion of each character in its place, the judicious selection 
of all trie circumstances, even the most minute,' have 
been pointed out by Schlegel in a dissertation referred 



to in a note at the end of the play ; in which he remarks, 
that ' there can be nothing more diffuse, more weari- 
some, than the rhyming history, which Shakspeare'a 
genius, " like richest alchymy," has changed to 
beauty and to worthiness. 1 Nothing but the delight of 
seeing into this wonderful metamorphosis can compen- 
sate for the laborious task of reading through more 
than three thousand six and seven-footed iambics, 
which, in respect of every thing that amuses, affects, 
and enraptures us in this play, are as a mere blank 
leaf. — Here all interest is entirely smothered under the 
coarse, heavy pretensions of an elaborate exposition- 
How much was to be cleared away, before life could 
be breathed into the shapeless mass ! In many parts 
what is here given bears the same relation to what 
Shakspeare has made out of it, which any common 
description of a thing bears to the thing itself. Thus 
out of the following hint — 

' A courtier, that eche-where was highly had in pryce, 
For he was courteous of his speche and pleasant of 

devise: 
Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde, 
Such was emonge the bashfull maydes Mercutio to be- 

holde ;' 

and tho addition that the said Mercutio had from his 
swathing-bands constantly had cold hands, — has arisen 
a splendid character decked out with the utmost profu 
sion of wit. Not to mention a number of nicer devia- 
tions, we find also some important incidents from the 
invention ; for instance, the meeting and the combat 
between Paris and Romeo at Juliet's grave. — Shak- 
speare knew how to transform by enchantment letters 
into spirit, a workman's daub into a poetical master 
piece. 

' Lessing declared Romeo and Juliet to be the only 
tragedy, that he knew, which love himself had assisted 
to compose. I know not (says Schlegel) how to end 
more gracefully than with these simple words, wherein 
so much lies : — One may call this poem an harmonious 
miracle, whose component parts that heavenly power 
alone could so melt together. It is at the same time 
enchantingly sweet and sorrowful, pure and glowing, 
gentle and impetuous, full of elegiac softness, and 
tragically overpowering.' 



PROLOGUE. 



Two households, both alike in dignity, 

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, 
From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny, 

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. 
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes 

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ; 
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows 

Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife. 



The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, 
And the continuance of their parents' rage, 

Which, but their children's end, nought could re- 
move, 
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage ; 

The which if you with patient ears attend, 

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



Esc alus, Prince of Verona. 

Paris, a young Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince. 

Montague, > Heads of Two Houses at variance with 

Capulet, 5 each other. 

An old Man, Uncle to Capulet. 

Romeo, Son to Montague. 

Mercutio, Kinsman to the Prince, and friend to 

Romeo. 
Benvolio, Nephew to Montague, and friend to 

Romeo. 
Tybalt, Nephew to Lady Capulet. 
Friar Lawrence, a Franciscan. 
Friar John, of the same Order. 
Balthazar, Servant to Romeo. 

Gregory, } Servants t0 C »P ulet - 



Abram, Servant to Montague. 

An Apothecary. 

Three Musicians. 

Chorus. Boy, Page to Paris. Peteb. 

An Officer. 

Lady Montague, JVifeto Montague 
Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet. 
Juliet, Daughter to Capulet. 
Nurse to Juliet. 

Citizens of Verona ; several Men and Women, Re- 
lations to both Houses ; Maskers, Guards, Watch- 
men, and Attendants. 

SCENE, during the greater Part of the Play, m 
Verona ; 07»ce, in the Fifth Act, at Mantua. 



Scene I. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. A public Place. Enter Sampson and 
Gregory, armed with Swords and Bucklers. 
Sampson. 
Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. 1 ' 

Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. 

Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. 

Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of 
the collar. 

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. 

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. 

Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. 

Gre. To move, is — to stir ; and to be valiant, is — 
to stand to it : therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou 
run'st away. 

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to 
stand : I will take the wall of any man or maid of 
Montague's. 

Gre. That shows thee a weak slave ; for the 
weakest goes to the wall. 

Sam. True ; and therefore women, being the 
weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: — there- 
fore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and 
thrust his maids to the wall. 

Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us 
their men. 

Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant : 
when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel 
with the maids ; I will cut off their heads. 

Gre. The heads of the maids? 

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maid- 
enheads ; take it in what sense thou wilt. 

Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it. 

Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand : 
and, 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. 

Gre. 'Tis well, thou art not fish ; if thou hadst, 
thou hadst been poor John. 2 Draw thy tool ; here 
comes two of the house of the Montagues. 3 
Enter Abram and Balthazar. 

Sam. My naked weapon is out ; quarrel, I will 
back thee. 

Gre. How ? turn thy back, and run ? 

Sam. Fear me not. 

Gre. No, marry : I fear thee ! 

Sam. Let us take the law of our sides ; let them 
begin. 

Gre. I will frown, as I pass by ; and let them 
take it as they list. 

Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb* 
at them ; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. 

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 

Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. 



1 To carry coals is to put up with insults, to submit 
to any degradation. Anciently, in great families, the 
scullions, turnspits, and carriers of wood and coals were 
esteemed the very lowest of menials, the drudges of all 
the rest. Such attendants upon the royal household, in 
progresses, were called the black-guard ; and hence 
the origin of that term. Thus in May Day, a Comedy 
by Geo. Chapman, 160S : — ' You must swear by no 
man's beard but your own ; for that may breed a quar- 
rel : above all things, you must carry no coals.'' Again, 
in the same play : — ' Now my ancient being ctf an un- 
coal-carrying spirit,' &c. And in Ben Jonson's Every 
Man in his Humour : — ' Here comes one that will carry 
coals ; ergo, will hold my dog.' Again in King Henry 
V. Act iii. Sc. 2 : — ' At Calais they stole a fireshovel ; I 
Knew by that piece of service the men would carry 
roals.' 
'2 Poor John is h&ke, dried and salted. 

3 The disregard of concord is in character. It should 
be observed that the partisans of the Montague family 
■wore a token in their hats in order to distinguish them 
from their enemies the Capulets. Hence throughout 
this play they are known at a distance. Gascohgne 
adverts to this circumstance in a Masque written for 
Viscount Montacute, in 1575: — 

' And for a further proofe, he shewed in his hat 

Thys token, which the Montacutes did beare always, 
for that 

They covet to be knowne from Capels, where they 
pass 

For ancient grutch whych long ago tweene these two 
houses was ' 



Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir ? 
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say — ay ? 
Gre. No. 

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, 
sir ; but I bite my thumb, sir. 
Gre. Do you quarrel, sir ? 
Abr. Quarrel, sir ? no, sir. 
Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as 
good a man as you. 
Abr. No better. 
Sam. Well, sir. 

Enter Benvolio, at a distance. 
Gre. Say — better ; here comes one of my mas- 
ter's kinsmen. 5 

Sam. Yes, better, sir. 
Abr. You lie. 

Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregory, remember 
thy swashing 6 blow. [They Jight. 

Ben. Part, fools ; put up your swords ; you know 
not what you do. [Beats down their Swords. 

Enter Tybalt. 
Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heart- 
less hinds ? 
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. 

Ben. I do but keep the peace ; put up thy sword, 
Or manage it to part these men with me. 

Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace ? I hate 
the word, 
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee : 
Have at thee, coward. [ They fight. 

Eider several Partisans of both Houses, who join the 
Fray; then enter Citizens, with Clubs. 
1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat 
them down ! 
Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues ! 
Enter Capulet, in his Gown ; and Lady 

Capulet. 

Cap. What noise is this ? — Give me my long 

sword, 7 ho ! [a sword ? 

La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch ! — Why call you for 

Cap. My sword, I say ! — Old Montague is come, 

And flourishes his blade in spite of me. 

Enter Montague and Lady Montague. 
Mon. Thou villain Capulet, — Hold me not, let 

me go. 
La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. 

Enter Prince, with Attendants. 
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, 
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, — 
Will they not hear! — what ho! you men, you 

beasts,— 
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 
With purple fountains issuing from your veins, 



4 This mode of insult, in order to begin a quarrel, 
seems to have been common in Shakspeare's time. 
Decker, in his Dead Term, 1608, describing the various 
groups that daily frequented St. Paul's Church, says, 
' What swearing is there, what shouldering, what just- 
ling, what jeering, what byting of thumbs, to beget 
quarrels !' And Lodge, in his Wits Miserie, 1596 : — 
'Behold, next I see Contempt marching forth, giving 
me the fico icith his thtimbe in his mouthe.' The mode 
in which this contemptuous action was performed is thus 
described by Cotgrave, in a passage which has escaped 
the industry of all the commentators : — ' Faire la nique : 
to mocke by nodding or lifting up of the chinne ; or more 
properly, to threaten or defie, by putting the thumbe 
naile into the mouth, and with a jerke (from the upper 
teeth) make it to knacke.' So in Randolph's Muses' 
Looking Glass : — 

' Dogs and pistols ! 

To bite his thumb at me ! 

Wear I a sword 
To see men bite their thumbs.''' 

5 Gregory is a servant of the Capulets : he must 
therefore mean Tybalt, who enters immediately after 
Benvolio. 

6 i. e. swaggering or dashing. 

7 The long sword was the weapon used in active 
warfare ; a lighter, shorter, and less desperate weapon 
was worn for ornament, to which we have other al. 
lusions. 

' No sword worn, but one to dance with. 



436 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Act I. 



On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 

Throw your mistemper'd 1 weapons to the ground, 

Ami hear the sentence of your moved prince. — 

Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, 

By thee, old Capulet and Montague, 

Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets ; 

And made Verona's ancient citizens 

Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, 

To wield old partisans, in hands as old, 

Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: 

If ever you disturb our streets again, 

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. 

For this time, all the rest depart away : 

You, Capulet, shall go along with me ; 

And Montague, come you this afternoon, 

To know our further pleasure in this case, 

To old Free-town, 2 our common judgment-place. 

Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 

[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants ; Capulet, 
La. Cat. Tvbai.t, Citizens and Servants. 

Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach ? 
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began ? 

Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, 
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach : 
I drew to part them ; in the instant came 
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd ; 
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, 
He sunn.' about his head, and cut the winds, 
Who, nothing hurt withal, hias'd ban in scorn : 
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, 
Came more anil more, and fought on part and part, 
Till the prince came, who parted either part. 

La. Mon. O, where is Romeo? — saw you him 
to-day ? 
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. 

lien. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun 
Peer'd forth the goiden window of the east,' 
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad ; 
Where, — underneath the grovo of sycamore, 
That westward rooteth from the city's side, — 
So early walking did I see your son : 
Towards him I made ; but he was 'ware of me, 
And stole into the covert of the 9 
I, measuring bis affections by my own, — 
That most are busied whin they are most alone, — 
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his, 
And gladly shunn'd who gladlv tied from me. 

Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, 
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, 
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs : 
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun 
Should in the furthest east begin to draw 
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, 
Away from light steals home my heavy son, 
And private in bis chamber pens himself; 
Shuts up his windows, loeks fair daylight out, 
And makes himself an artifieial night : 
Black and portentous must this humour prove, 
Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 



1 i. e. angry weapons. So in Kins John ; — 

'This inundation ofmislemper'd humour,' &c. 

2 The poet found the name of this place in Brooke's 
Tragical] History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. It is 

! to be the castle of the Capulets. 

3 The sain.- thought occurs in Spenser's Faerie 
Queene. b. ii. c. 10:— 

' Early before the morn with cremosin ray 

The windows of bright heaven opened had, 

Through which into the world the dawning day 

Might >oke,> &c. 

Again in Summa Totalis, or All in All, 4to. 1607: — 

' Now heaven's bright eye (awake by Vesper's Shrine) 

Peepes through the purple windowes of the East.'' 

4 The old copy reads : — 

' Or dedicate his beauty to the same.' 1 
The emendation is by Theobald ; who states, with great 
plausibility^ that sunne might easily lx: mistaken tor 
samr. Ma'lonc observes, that Shakspeare has evidently 
imitated the Rosamond of Daniel in the last act of this 
play, and in this passage may have remembered the 
following lines in one ofthe Sonnets of the same writer, 
who was then extremely popular : — 

' And whilst thou spread'st into the rising sunne 
The fairest flower that ever saw the light, 
N'ow joy thy time before thy sweet be done.' 



Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause' 

Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. 

Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ? 

Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends : 
But he, his own affections' counsellor, 
Is to himself — I will not say, how true — 
But to himself so secret and so close, 
So far from sounding and discovery, 
As is the bud bit with an envious worm, 
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, 
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 4 
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, 
We would as willingly give cure, as know. 
Enter Romeo, at a distance. 

Ben. See, where he comes ; So please you, step 
aside ; 
I'll know his grievance, or be mnch denied. 

Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, 
To hear true shrift. — Come, madam, let's away. 

[Exeunt Montague and Lady. 

Ben. Good morrow, cousin. 

Bom. Is the day so young? 

Ben. But new strnck nine. 

Rom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long. 

Was that mv father that went hence so fast ? 

Ben. It was : — What sadness lengthens Romeo's 
hours ? 

Rom. Not having that, which having makes them 
short. 

Ben. In love ? 

Rom. Out — 

Ben. Of love ? 

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. 

Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, 
Should be SO tyrannous and rough in proof! 

Rom. Alas,'that lore, whose view is niuthVd still, 
Should, without eye's, aee pathways to his will J 4 

shall we dine ? — O, me ! — What fray was 
here ? 
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 
H( '■ 's much to do with hate, but more with love: 
Wliv then, O, brawling love ! O, loving hate ! 6 
O, any thing, of nothing first create ! 
t ), heavy lightness! serious vanity! 
Misshapen chaos of well seeming forms! 
1 r of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health ? 

Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! — 
This love f, el I, that fee! no love in this. 
Dosl thou not laugh? 

Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. 

Rom. Good heart, at what ? 

Bm. At thy good heart's oppression. 

Rom. Whv, surh is love's transgression. — 
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; 
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest 
With more of thine ; i his love, that thou hast showr., 
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. 
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ; 
Being urg'd,' a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; 



These lines add great support to Theobald's emendation. 
There . es in the poet where so great an 

improvement of language is obtained by so slight a 
deviation from the text ofthe old copy. 
• 5 i. e. should blindly and recklessly think he can 
surmount all obstacles to his will. 

6 Every ancient sonnetteer characterised Love by 
contrarh lies. Watson begins one of his canzonets : — 

' Love is a scwre delight. I iefe, 

A living death, and ever-dying life,' &c. 

Turberville makes Reason harangue against it in the 

same manner ; — 

1 A fierie frost, a flame that frozen is with ise ! 

A heavie burden light to beare ! A vertue fraught with 
vice !' &c. 

7 The old copy reads, ' Being purged a fire,' &c— 
The emendation I have admitted into the text was 
suggested by Dr. Johnson. To urge the fire is to kindle 
or "ret' re it. So in Chapman's version of the twenty- 
first Iliad : — . . , .. 

' And as a cauldron, under put with store of fire, 
Bavins of sere-wood urging it,' &c. 
So Akenside, in his Hymn to Cheerfuli.ess :- 

' Haste, light the tapers, urge thefirt, 

And bid the joyless day retire.' 



Scene II. 



ROMEO AND JULIET 



437 



Being vex'd, a sea nourish' d with lovers' tears : 
What is it else ? a madness most discreet, 
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 
Farewell, my coz. [Goin 

Ben. Soft, I will go along ; 

An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. 

Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; 
This is not Romeo, he's some other where. 

Ben. Tell me in sadness, 1 whom she is you love. 

Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee ? 

Ben. Groan ? why, no ; 

But sadly tell me who. 

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: 
Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill ! 
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. 

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. 

Rom. A right good marksman! — And she's fair 
I love. 

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. 

Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss : she'll not be 
hit 
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit ; 
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, 2 
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. 
She will not stay the siege of loving terms, 
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold : 
O, she is rich in beauty ; only poor, 
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 3 

Ben, Then she hath sworn, that she will still 
live chaste ? 

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge 
waste ; 
For beauty, starv'd with her severity, 
Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 
She is too fair, too wise ; wisely too fair, 
To merit bliss by making me despair : 
She hath forsworn to love ; and, in that vow, 
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. 

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. 

Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. 

Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ; 
Examine other beauties. 

Rom. 'Tis the way 

To call hers, exquisite, in question more :* 
These happy masks, 5 that kiss fair ladies' brows, 
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair ; 
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget 
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost ; 



1 i. e. tell me gravely, in seriousness. 

2 ' As this play was written in the reign of Queen 
Elizabeth, these speeches of Romeo may be regarded 
as an oblique compliment to her majesty, who was not 
liable to be displeased at hearing her chastity praised 
after she was suspected to have lost it, or her beauty 
commended in the sixty-seventh year of her ago, though 
6he never possessed any when young. Her declaration 
that she would continue unmarried increases the pro- 
bability of the present supposition.' — Steevens. 

3 The meaning appears to be, as Mason gives it, 
' She is poor only, because she leaves no part of her 
store behind her, as with her all beauty will die : — 

' For beauty starv'd with her severity 
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.' 

4 i. e. to call her exquisite beauty more into my mind, 
and make it more the subject of conversation. Question 
is used frequently with this sense by Shakspeare. 

5 This is probably an allusion to the masks worn by 
the female spectators of the play : unless we suppose 
lhat these means no more than the. 

6 The quarto of 1597 reads : — 

' And too soon marred are those so early married.' 
Puttenham, in his Arte of Poesy, 15S9, uses this ex- 
pression, which seems to be proverbial, as an instance 
of a figure which he calls the Rebound : — 

' The maid that soon married is, soon marred is.' 
The jingle between marred and made is likewise fre- 
quent among the old writers. So Sidney : — 

' Oh ! he is marr'd, that is fur others made ." 
Spenser introduces it very often in his different poems. 

7 Fille de lerre is the old French phrase for an 
heiress. Earth is likewise put for lands, i. e. landed 
t state, in other old plays. But Mason suggests that earth 
may here mean corporal part, as in a future passage of 
this play :—• 



Show me a mistress that is passing fair, 
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note 
Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair ? 
Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget. 
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. A Street. Enter Capulet, Paris, 
and Servant. 

Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, 
In penalty alike ; and 'tis not hard, I think, 
For men so old as we to keep the peace. 

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both ; 
And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. 
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit ? 

Cap. By saying o'er what i have said before : 
My child is )'et a stranger in the world, 
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ; 
Let two more summers wither in their pride, 
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. 

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. 

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early 
made.* 
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, 
She is the hopeful lady of my earth;' 
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, 
My will to her consent is but a part ; B 
An she agree, within her scope of choice 
Lies my consent and fair according voice. 
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, 
Whereto I have invited many a guest, 
Such as I love ; and you, among the store, 
One more, most welcome, makes my number more. 
At my poor house, look to behold this night 
Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light • 
Such comfort, as do lusty young men 9 feel 
When well apparell'd April on the heei 
Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
Among fresh female buds shall you this night 
Inherit 10 at my house ; hear all, all see, 
And like her most, whose merit most shall he : 
Which, on more view of many, mine being one, 11 
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.* 
Come, go with me ; — Go, sirrah, trudge about 
Through fair Verona ; find those persons out, 
Whose names are written there, [gives a Paper,] 

and to them say, 
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. 

[Exeunt Capulet and Paris. 

Serv. Find them out, whose names are written 



' Can I go forward when my heart is here ? 
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.' 
So in Shakspeare's 146th Sonnet: — 

' Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth. 

8 i. e. in comparison to. 

9 For ' lusty young men' Johnson would read ' lusty 
yeomen.' Ritson ha3 clearly shown that young men 
was used for yeomen in our elder language. And the 
reader may convince himself by turning to Spelrnan's 
Glossary in the words junior ies and yeoman. 

10 To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to 
possess. 

11 By a perverse adherence to the first quarto copy of 
1597, which reads, ' Such amongst view of many,' &c. 
this passage has been made unintelligible. The subse- 
quent quartos and the folio read, ' Which one [on] 
more,' &c; evidently meaning, ' Hear all, see all, ana 
like her most who has the most merit; her, which, 
after regarding attentively the many, my daughter being 
one, may stand unique in merit, though she may be 
reckoned nothing, or held in no estimation. The allu- 
sion, as Malone has shown, is to the old proverbial 
expression, 'One is no number,' thus adverted to in 
Decker's Honest Whore : — 

' to fall to one 

is to fall to none, 

For one no number is.' 
And in Shakspeare's 136th Sonnet: — 

' Among a number one is reckon'd none, 
Then in the number let me pass untold.' 
It will be unnecessary to inform the reader that which 
is here used for who, a substitution frequent in Shak 
speare, as in all the writers of his time. One of tha 
later quartos has corrected the error of the others, and 
reads as in the present text : — 

' Which on more view,' &c 



438 



ROMEO AND JULIET 

h La MZZX#££tti£&\ Kiss:,-'? - scaIes « lef *- i- - ig hM 

the fisher with h.s pencil, and the painter with Ms SSKSl ° V ^T ? ome other maid 
nets; but I am sent to find those persons whos AnH A Wll i s I 1 ? ow >°V hm,n S at this feast, 
Barnes are here wr.t, and can never End what names ll f^V? 1 shoW we ?> *■» •><>« -*«■ best 



here ?' 

tin 



the writing person hath here writ 
learned : — In good time 

Enter Bewvolio and Romeo. 

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another' 
burning, 

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; 
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning • 

One desperate grief cures with another's languish ■ 
lake thou some new infection to thy eye ° UISn ' 
And the rank poison of the old will die ' 

Rom. 1 our plantain leaf is excellent for that » 

jlen. i or what, I pray thee ? 

Ji'l?'YJh„ n , For y° ur broken skin. 

J3en. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ? 

Hnm No. mad.but bound more than a madman is : 
Shut up in prison, kept without my food, 
Whippd and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good 
lellow. ' 6 

read?™' ^ gi ' 8 °° d "^^ P"*' sir > can ?<>" 
■Row. Ay mine own fortune in my misery. 
Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: 

.but, I pray, can you read any thing you see ? 
<f7' v y ' ,f l . know , the let '"s, and the language. 
Serv. Ye say honestly ; Rest you merry ! " " 
Rom. Stay, f,llow ; I can read. ' l Reads 

S>g>»°r Martino, anrf fa. wife and d ' Al £/.' 

Cottnfj, Anselme, and fe ^ e0M „ W ,°*% 

K, ^ <£ ,ru ™ ! *fc«" Placen.io, «' B rf A , 
lively nieces; Merc,,,,,,, „„,/ ,,is , lr<)thrr Vl , cn ,ine 
Mine «nc/ e Capolet, «* „•,/",, „„,, A,,,^^""^' 
fair meet Rosaline ; Livia ; Senior Valentio 3 
tocMun Tybal. ; Lu cio> a > m{ ,£ E^S££ and 
A fair assembly ; [ Gi,,, back the JVbte.l Wluther 
should they come ? 
Serv. Up. 
jRom. Whither? 
SW. To supper ; to our house. 
Horn. Whose house? 
Seru. My master's. 

Rom. indeed I should have asked you that before. 
, n ,J .r li ,f " >'"■' "irhout asking Mv 
master is the great r,ch Capulet j and if you be not 
of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush 
acupofwme.' Rest you merrv. f fW 

S,.fT!i. f ■ n Sa r e ancicn ' fcast ofCapnlet's 
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st ; 
« ith all the admired beauties of Verona 
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, 
Compare her face with some that I shall show, 
And I w,ll make ihee think thy swan a crow. ' 
Rom. W hen the devout religion of mine eye 

An i T, " S S T h fa J» eho * 1 . l, "-n turn tears to fires ! 
And these,_who, often drown'd, could never die,— 

1 ransparcnt heretics, be burnt for liars » 
One fairer than my love ! the all-seeing sun 
Ne er saw her match, since first the world begun. 
„"; c r,U , ! ,>' ou saw her fair, r.one else belli* by. 
Herself po ,s'd with herself in e:'.her eye : X 



1 The quarto of 1597 adds,, 'And yet I know not 

rtem a . r ?h?, r "' Cn here w : * m "" to the JeameJ to Telrn of 
«hen»: that's as much as to say, the tailor,' &c. 

fJr, I, P'""'"'" '""/ is a blnod-stancher, and was 
formerly anphed I to green wounds. So in Albumazar™ 
Rnf,l P ' VS? 1 ™*' he, P ! '' m fallen i' the cellar: 
Bnnsr a fresh plantain-leof, I've broke my shin ' 

mon II „?,"' eXpreSS, -° n *S ems ,0 ha ™ been ouce com- 

mon , it often occurs in old plays. We have one still 

in use of similar import :-To crack abotth *"" 

4 Heath says, 'Your lad,rs love, is the love nou bear 

forTelady^e^i in ™ r j a »=uak is co^ *Z 

.artiV^J rself - Perha P s we should "ad, «Fo«r 

o In all the old copies the greater part of this scene 

was printed as prose. Cape.l was theVst who exhibit 

■' I „*"!•' ,' he subsequent editors have followed 

uuu, uut petliaps erroneously. 



p.. m i», i ' Ul,il now shows bes 

SCENE III. ARoominCzpuhVsHcmse.s Enter 
L,ADy Capulet a«d Nurse. 

La. Cap Nurse, where's my daughter ? call her 
lorth to me. 

iV " rSe 'old OW ' ^ my maidcnhead .— at twelve year 
I bade her come -What, lamb! what, lady-bird !- 
God forbid '—where's this girl ? what, Juliet ! 
Enter Juliet. 

Jul. How now, who calls ? 

^Y S€ - Your mother. 

What' is your will? Madam, I am here, 

Ltt ' C TvhTle S " S the ma " er : ~ Nurse ' g>ve leave 
We mus t talk in secret—Nurse, come back a^ain 
II averemember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel' 
Thou know's. my daughter's of a pretty age 

La Ur rJ%u\ 1 Can r te " her a « e um '° an "our. 
■i_a- Vaj>. She's not fourteen. 

Nurse. I'H ] ay f our(een f , , 

y \2,- y teen6 be h s p° ken > J EI ^5 

®i< is not fourteen : How long is it now 
io Lammas-tide? 

La. Cap A fortnight, and odd days. 

A ur.se. Even or odd, of all days in the year, 

s""'" a La , m ? aS - e ); e al ni S ,U ' shal1 s,, e he four een. 
Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls '- 
W ere of an age.-Well, Susan is with God • ' 
Ww was too good for me : But, as I said ' 
On Lammas-eve at n.ght shall she be fourteen : 
That shall she, marry ; I remember it well, 
lis since the earthquake now eleven years •♦ 
Of A ri 8 Wea f n $~ l ^ver shall forget il,_. 

f al 1 t ^ daV9 , of J "' e >' car ' u P onthatda y; 

*or I had then laid wormwood to my duo 
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall 
My lord and you were then at Mantua :— 
Nay, I do bear a brain :»_but, as I said, 

OF Z rf! ta f; I'' 6 : vor '" w ood on the nipple 
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool ' 
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug, 
Shake quolh t , dove-house : 'twas no need, I trow 
I o bid me trudge. ' ,rvw > 

And since that time it is eleven years • 
For then she could stand alone ; nay, by the rood 
She could have run and waddled all'about, ' 

For even the day before, she broke her brow • 
And then my husband-God be with his soul | 
A was a merry man ;— took up the child : 
Yea, quoth he, ** thou fall upon thy face ? 
Thou unit fall backward, nhen thou W mare uir: 
J1 dt thou not, Jule ? and, by my holy-dam, 
The pretty wretch left crying, and said- Z . 
I o see now, how a jest shall come about ! " 
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, 

quo"h d he f 7 get h5 Wtlt tkl 3 **l 
And, pretty fool, j t s tinted,=> and said— Ay. 

-hJe^hJ^^h-td^Ln^ 3 ^^,-^ 
frZ I™ 6 ' ° M " ,e 6th ° r A " r ''. '580; and thai we may 
tenTn mi. C0 " JeCtUre ' hal Romeo a " d Ju] ie t % 

Tvf Z he "Y 86 . 11163 " 8 t0 boast of her retentive faculty — 

.te° bra ". t w as to possess much mental caparhT 

either of attention, ingenuity, or remembrance ffi 

in Marston's Dutch Courtezan ;— ura "ce. lima 

'My silly husband, alas ! knows nothing of it 'tia 

I that must bear a braine for all.' ° ' 

9 To stmt is to stop. Baret translates 'Lachrymaa 



Scene IV. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



439 



La. Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy 
peace. 

Nurse. Yes, madam ; Yet I cannot choose but' 
laugh, 
To think it should leave crying, and say — Ay : 
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow 
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone ; 
A parlous knock, and it cried bitterly. 
Yea, quoth my husband, falVst upon thy face ? 
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com , st to age J 
Wiltthnu not, Jule ? it stinted, and said — Ay. 

Jul. And stint thou <oo, I pray thee, nurse, say I. 

Nurse. Peace, I ha\e done. God mark thee to 
his grace ! 
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd : 
An I might live to see thee married once, 
I have my wish. 

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme 
I came to talk of: — Tell me, daughter Juliet, 
How stands your disposition to be married ? 

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. 

Nurse. An honour ! were not I thine only nurse, 
I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. 

La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now ; younger 
than you, 
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, 
Are made already mothers : by my count, 
I was your mother much upon these years 
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; — 
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. 

Nurse. A man, young lady ! lady, such a man, 
As all the world — Why, he's a man of wax. 2 

La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a 
flower. 

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower ; in faith, a very 
flower. 3 

La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gen- 
tleman ? 
This night you shall behold him at our feast ; 
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, 
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ; 
Examine every married* lineament, 
And see how one another lends content ; 
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies, 
Find written in the margin of his eyes.' 



supprimere, to stinte weeping ; and ' to stinte talke,' by 
' sermones restinguere.' So Ben Jonson in Cynthia's 
Revels : — 

' Stint thy babbling tongue, 

Fond Echo.' 
Again, in What You Will, by Marston : — 

' Pish ! for shame, stint thy idle chat.' 
Spenser uses the word frequently. 

1 This tautologous speech is not in the first quarto of 
1597. 

2 i. e. as well made as if he had been modelled in 
wax. So in Wiley beguiled: — 'Why, he is a man as 
one should picture him in wax.' So Horace uses ' Cerea 
brachia,' waxen arms, for arms well shaped. — Od. xiii. 
1. Which Dacier explains : — ' Des bras faits au tour 
eomme nous disons d'un bras rond, qu'il est comnie 
de cire.' 

3 After this speech of the Nurse, Lady Capulet, in the 
old quarto, says only : — 

' Weil, Juliet, how like you of Paris' love ?' 
She answers, ' I'll look to like,' &c. ; and*so concludes 
the scene, without the intervention of that stuff to be 
found in the later quartos and the folio. 

4 Thus the quarto of 1599. The quar'o of 1609 and 
the folio read, 'several lineaments.' We have, 'The 
unity and married, calm of states,' in Troilus and Ores 
sida And in his eighth Sonnet: — 

' It the true concord of well-tuned sounds, 
By unions married, do offend thine ear.' 

5 The comments on ancient books were generally 
printed in the margin. Horatio says, in Hamlet, ' I 
knew you must be edified by the margent,'' &c. So in 
The Rape of Lucrece : — 

' But she that never cop'd with stranger eyes 
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, 
Nor read the subtle shining secrecies 
Writ in the glassy margent of such books." 1 
This speech is full of quibbles. The unbound lover i: 
a quibble on the binding (if a book, and the binding in 
marriage ; and the word coiner is a quibble on the law 
pnrase for a married woman, Jemme couvertc. 



This precious book of love, this unbound lover, 
To beautify him, only lacks a cover : 
The fish lives in the sea ; 6 and 'tis much pride, 
For fair without the fair within to hide : 
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, 
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story ; 
So shall you share all that he doth possess, 
By having him, making yourself no less. 

Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger ; women grow by 
men. 

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' 
love 1 

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move ; 
But no more deep will I endart' mine eye, 
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served 
up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse 
cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. 
I must hence to wait ; I beseech you, follow straight. 

La. Cap. Wd follow thee. — Juliet, the county 
stays. 

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE rV. A Street. Enter Romeo, Mercu- 

tio, 8 Benvolio, with Jive or six Maskers, Torch- 
Hearers, and others. 

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for ou. 
excuse ? 
Or shall we on without apology ? 

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity. 9 
We'll have no cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf, 
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, 10 
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;" 
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke 
After the prompter, for our entrance : 
But, let them measure us by what they will, 
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. 

Rom. Give me a torch, 12 — I am not for this 
ambling: 
Being but heavy, I will bear the light. 

6 Dr. Farmer explains this, ' The fish is not yet 
caught.'' Mason thinks that we should read, ' The fish 
lives in the shell ; for the sea cannot be said to be a 
beautiful cover to a fish, though a shell may.' The 
poet may mean nothing more than that those books are 
most esteemed by the world where valuable contents 
axe embellished by as valuable binding. 

7 The quarto of 1597 reads, engage mine eye. 

8 Shakspeare appears to have formed this character 
on the following slight hint: — 'Another gentleman, 
called Mercutio, which was a courtlike gentleman, 
very well beloved of all men, and by reason of hia 
pleasant and courteous behaviour was in al companies 
wel entertained.' — Painter's Palace of Pleasure, torn, 
ii. p. 221. 

9 In King Henry VIII., where the king introduces 
himself at the entertainment given by Wolsey, he ap- 
pears, like Romeo and his companions, in a mask, and 
sends a messenger before with an apology for his intru- 
sion. This was a custom observed by those who came' 
uninvited, with a desire to conceal themselves, for the 
sake of intrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of con- 
versation. Their entry on these occasions was always 
prefaced by some speech in praise of the beauty of the 
ladies, or the generosity of the entertainer; and to the 
prolixity of such introductions it is probable Romeo is 
made to allude. In Histriomastix, 1610, a man ex- 
presses his wonder that the maskers enter without any 
compliment : — ' What, come they in so blunt, without 
device?' Of this kind of masquerading, there is a spe- 
cimen in Timon, where Cupid precedes a troop of la- 
dies with a speech. 

10 The Tartarian bows resemble in their form the old 
Roman or Cupid's bow, such as we see on medals and 
bas-relief. Shakspeare uses the epithet to distinguish it 
from the English bow, whose shape is the segment of a 
circle. 

11 See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6. 

12 A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every 
troop of maskers. To hold a torch was anciently no 
degrading office. Queen Elizabeth's gentlemen pen 
sioners attended her to Cambridge, and held torcltes 
while a play was acted before her in the Chapel of 

J King's College on a Sunday evening. 



440 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Act .; 



Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you 
dance. 

Rom. Not I, believe me : you have dancing 
shoes, 
With nimble soles : I have a soul of lead, 
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. 

Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, 
And soar with them above a common bound. 

Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, 
To soar with his light feathers ; and so bound, 
I cannot bound" a pitch above dull wo : 
Under love's heavy burden do I sink. 

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love, 
Too great oppression for a tender thing. 

Rom. Is love a tender thing '! it is too rough, 
Too rude, too boist'rous : and it pricks like thorn. 

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with 
love ; 
Prick love from pricking, and you beat love down. — 
Give me a case to put my visage in : 

[Putting on a Mask. 
A visor for a visor ! — what care I, 
What curious eye doth quote 2 deformities ? 
Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me. 

Ben. Come, knock, and enter : and no sooner in, 
But every man betake him to his legs. 

Rom. A torch for me : let wantons, light of heart, 
Tickle the senseless rushes 3 with their neels ; 
For I am proverb'd with a granusire phrase, — 
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, — 
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.* 

Mer. Tut ! dun's the mouse, the constable's own 
word : 
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire 5 
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou Btick'st 
Up to the ears.— Come, we burn daylight, 6 ho. 

Rom. Nay, that's not so. 

Mer. I mean, sir, in delay 

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. 
Take our good meaning ; for our judgment sits 
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits." 



1 Let Milton on this occasion keep Shakspeare in 
Countenance. Par. Lost, book iv. I. ISO : — 

' in contempt 

At one slight bound high over-leap'd all bound.'' 

2 To quote is to note, to mark. See Hamlet, Act ii. 
Sc. 1. 

3 Middleton (the author of The Witch) has borrowed 
this thought in his play of Blurt Master Constable, 
1602:— 

' bid him, whose heart no sorrow feels, 

Tickle the rushes with his wanton heels, 
I have too much lead at mine.' 
It has been before observed that the apartments of our 
ancestors were strewed with rushes, and so it seems 
was the ancient stage. ' On the very rushes when the 
Comedy is to dance.'— Decker's Gull's Hornbook, IG09. 
Shakspeare does not stand alone in giving the m 
and customs of his own times to all countries and ages. 
Marlowe, in his Hero and Leander, describes Hero as 
' fearing on the rushes to be flung.' 

4 To hold the candle is a common proverbial expres- 
sion for being an idle spectator. Among Ray's pro- 
verbial sentences we have, ' A good candle-holder proves 
a good gamester.' This is the ' grandsire phrase' with 
which Romeo is proverbed. There is another old pru- 
dential maxim subsequently alluded to, which advices to 
give over when the game is at the fairest. 

5 Dun is the mouse is a proverbial saying to us of 
vague significuiion, alluding to the colour of the mouse ; 
but frequently employed with no other intent than that of 
quibbling on the word done. AVhy it is attributed to a 
constable we know not. It occurs in the comedy ol 
Patient Grissel, 1603. So in The Two Merry Milk- 
maids, 1620:— 'Why then, 'tis done, and dun's the 
mouse, and undone all the courtiers.' To draw dun 
out of the mire was a rural pastime, in which dun 
jneani a dun horse, suposed to be stuck in the mire, and 
sometimes represented by one of the persons who played, 
at others by a log of wood. Mr. GifTord has described 
the game, at which he remembers often to have played, 
,»n a note to Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas, vol. 
vii. p. 2S2: — ' A log of wood is brought into the midst of 
the room ; this is dun, (the cart horse,) and a crv is 
raised that he is stuck in the mire. Two of the com- 
pany advance, either with or without ropes, to draw 
him out. Alter repeated attempts, they find themselves 



Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask ; 
But 'tis no wit to go. 

.Mi r. Why, may one ask ? 

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. 

Mer. And so did I. 

Rom. Well, what was yours ? 

Mer. That dreamers often lie. 

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things 
true. [y 0- - 1 - 

Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with 
She is the fairies' midwife ; 8 and she comes 
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
On the fore-finger of an alderman, 9 
Drawn with a team of little atomies' 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: 
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; 
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers • 
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; 
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams: 
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film : 
Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat," 
Not half so big as a round little worm 
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : 
Her chariot is an empty liazel-nut, 
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, 
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. 
And in this slate she gallops night by night 
Through lovers' brains, and then thev dream of love' 
On courtiers'knces,that dream on court 'sies straight : 
O'er lawyers' lingers, who straight dream on fees* 
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream ; 
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, 
Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted 

are. 12 
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose," 
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit :'* 
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, 
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, 
Then dreams he of another benefice : 
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 
Of breaches, ambuscades, Spanish Blades." 



unable to do it, andcall for in ce. The gams 

continues till all the company take part in it, when dun 
is extricated of course ; and the merriment arises from 
the awkward ami affected efforts of the rustics to lift 
the tog, and sundry arch contrivances to let the ends of 
it fall on one another'- i 

6 This proverbial phrase, which was applied to su- 
perfluous actions in general, occurs again in The Merry 
wives ol Windsor. 

7 The quarto of 1597 reads, ' Three times a day;'' and 
right wits instead of fin \\ iis. 

8 The fairies* midwife does not mean the midwife to 
the fairies, but that she was the person among the fairies 
whose department it was to deliver the fancies of sleep- 
in? men of their dreams, those- rfn til 1 1 a of an idle brain 
When we say the king's judges, we do not mean per 
sons who judge the king, but persons appointed by him 
to judge his subjects. — Steevens. Warburton, with some 
plausibility, reads. ' the fancy's midwife.' 

9 The quarto of 1597 has, ' of a burgomaster.' The 
citizens oi Shakspt are's time appear to have worn this 
ornament on the thumb. So Glapthorne in his comedy 
of Wit in a Constable: — 'And an alderman, as I may 
say to you, he has no more wit than the rest o' the 
bench : and that lies in his thumb ring.' Shakspeare 
compares his fairy to the figure carved on the agate- 
stone of a thumb ring. 

10 Atomies for atoms. 

11 There is a similar fanciful description of Queen 
Mali's chariot in Drayton's Nymphidia, which was 
written several years after this tragedy. 

12 This probably alludes to the ' kissing comfits,' men- 
tioned by Falstatf in the last act of the Merry Wives of 
Windsor. 

13 This speech received much alteration after the first 
edition in the quarto of 1597 : and Shakspeare has inad- 
vertently introduced the courtier twice. Mr. Tyrwh'tt 
finding ' countries knees' in the first instance printed in 
the second folio, would read counties 7 (i. e. noblemen's) 
knees. Steevens remarks that the whole speech bears 
a resemblance to a passage of Claudian in Sextum Con- 
sulatum Honorii Augoeti Praefatio. 

14 A place in court 

15 The quarto ol 1597 reads, ' countermines.' Spanisn 
blades were held in high esteem. A sword was called a 
Toledo, from the excellence of the Toletan steel. 



Scene V. 



ItOMEO AND JULIET. 



441 



Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon 
Drums in his ear ; at which he starts and wakes ; 
And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, 
That plats the manes of horses in the night : 
And bakes the elf-locks 1 in foul sluttish hairs, 
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. 
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, 
That presses them, and learns them first to bear, 
Making them women of good carriage. 2 
This, this is she — 

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ; 

Thou talk'st of nothing. 

Mer. True, I talk of dreams ; 

Which are the children of an idle brain, 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air ; 
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos 
Even now the frozen bosom of the north, 
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, 
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our- 
selves ; 
Supper is done, and we shall come too late. 

Rom. I fear, too early ; for my mind misgives, 
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, 
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
With this night's revels ; and expire 3 the term 
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, 
By some vile forfeit of untimely death : 
But He, that hath the steerage of my course, 
Direct my sail ! On, lusty gentlemen. 

Ben. Strike, drum. 4 [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. 5 A Hall in Capulet's House. Mu- 
sicians waiting. Enter Servants. 

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to 
take away? he shift a trencher! 6 he ^scrape a 
trencher ! 

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one 
or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a 
foul thing. 

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the 
court-cupboard, 7 look to the plate: — good thou, 
save me a piece of marchpane ; 8 and, as thou lovest 



1 i. e. fairy locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in 
the night. It was a common superstition ; and Warbur- 
ton conjectures that it had its rise from the horrid disease 
called Plica Polonica. 

2 So in Love's Labour's Lost, Act i. Sc. 2 : — 

' let them be men of great repute and carriage. 

' Moth. Sampson, master; he was a man of good car- 
nage, great carriage ; for he carried the town-gates.' 

3 So in The Rape of Lucrece : — 

' An expired date cancell'd ere well begun.' 
And in Mother Hubbard's Tale : — 

' Now whereas time flying with wings swift 
Expired had the term,' &c. 

4 Here the folio adds : — ' They march about the stage, 
and serving men come forth with their napkins.' 1 

5 This scene is not in the first copy in the quarto of 
1597. 

6 To shift a trencher was technical. So in The Mi- 
series of Enforst Marriage, 1608 : — ' Learne more man- 
ners, stand at your brother's backe, as to shift a/rencher 
neately,' &c. Trenchers were used in Shakspeare's 
time, and long after, by persons of good fashion and 
quality. They continued common till a late period in 
many public societies, and are now, or were lately, still 
retained at Lincoln's Inn. 

7 The court cupboard was the ancient sideboard ; it 
was a cumbrous piece of furniture, with stages or 
shelves gradually receding, like stairs, to the top, 
whereon the plate was displayed at festivals. They are 
mentioned in many of our old comedies. Thus in Chap- 
man's Monsieur D'Olive, 1606 : — ' Here shall stand my 
vyurl cupboard, with its furniture of plate.' Again in 
his May Day, 1611 : — ' Court cupboards planted with 
flagons, cans, cups, beakers,' &c. Two of these an- 
cient pieces of furniture are still in Stationer's Hall : 
ihey are used at public festivals, to display the antique 
eiiver vessels of the Company, consisting of cans, cups, 
beakers, flagons, &c. There is a print in a curious 
work, entitled Laurea Austriaca, folio, 1627, represent- 
ing an entertainment given by King James I. to the Spa- 
nish Ambassadors, in 1623; from which the reader will 
get a better notion of the court cupboard than volumes 

3 F 



me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and 
Nell. — Antony ! and Potpan .' 
2 Serv. Ay, boy • ready. 

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked 
for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.— 
Cheerly, boys ; be brisk awhile, and the longer 
liver take all. [They retire behind. 

Enter Capulet, $-c. with the Guests and the 

Maskers. 

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies, that have 

their toes 
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you :— 
Ah ha, my mistresses ! which of you all 
Will now deny to dance ? she that makes dainty she, 
I'll swear hath corns ; Am I come near you now ? 
You are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the day, 
That I have worn a visor ; and could tell 
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, 
Such as would please ; — 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: 
You are welcome, gentlemen! — Come, musicians, 

play. 
A hall! a hall ! 9 give room and foot it, girls. 

[Musicplays, and they dance. 
More lights, ye knaves ; and turn the tables up, 10 
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. — 
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. 
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin 11 Capulet ; 
For you and I are past our dancing days : 
How long is't now, since last yourself and I 
Were in a mask ? 

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years, [much : 

1 Cap. What, man ! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so 
'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, 

Come pentecost as quickly as it will, 

Some five and twenty years ; and then we mask'd. 

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more : his son is elder, sir : 
His son is thirty. 

1 Cap. Will you tell me that? 

His son was but a ward two years ago. 12 

Rom. What lady's that,\vhich doth enrich the hand 
Of yonder knight ? 

Serv. I know not, sir. 

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! 
It seems she 13 hangs upon the cheek of night 



of description would afford him. It was sometimes 
also called a cupboard of plate, and a livery cupboard. 

8 Marchpane was a constant article in the desserts of 
our ancestors. It was a sweet cake, composed of 151 
berts, almonds, pistachoes, pine kernels, and sugar of 
roses, with a small portion of flour. They were often 
made in fantastic forms. In 1562, the Stationers' Com- 
pany paid ' for ix. marchpaynes xxvi. s. viii. rf.' 

9 An exclamation commonly used to make room in a 
crowd for any particular purpose, as we now say, a 
ring '. a ring ! So Marston, Sat. iii. : — 

' Ji hall ! a hall ! 

Ronnie for the spheres, the orbs celestia. 

Will dance Kempe's jigg.' 
The passages are numberless that may be cited in illaa 
tration of this phrase. 

10 The ancient tables were flat leaves or boards joined 
by hinges and placed on tressels ; when they were to be 
removed they were therefore turned up. The phrase is 
sometimes takemip. Thus in Cavendish's Life of Wol- 
sey, ed. 1S25, p. 199 : — ' After that the boards-end was 
taken up.' 

11 Cousin was a common expression for kinsman. 
Thus in Hamlet, the king, his uncle and stepfather, ad- 
dresses him with — 

' But now, mv cousin Hamlet and my son.' 

12 This speech stands thus in the quarto of 1597: — 
' Will you tell me that ? it cannot be so : 

His son was but a ward three years ago ; 

Good youths, i'faith ! — Oh, youth's a jolly thing!' 
There are many trifling variations in almost every 
speech of this play ; but when they are of little conse 
quence I have not encumbered the page with them. 
The last of these three lines, however, is natural and 
pleasing. — Steevens. 

13 Steevens reads, with the second folio : — 

' Her beauty hangs upon,' &c 

Shakspeare has the same thought in his 27th Sonnet:— 

' Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night, 

Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.' 

Lyly in his Euphues, has 'A fair pearl in aMorian'sear.» 



442 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Act L 



Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear : 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows : 
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, 
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. 
Did my heart love till now ? forswear it, sight ! 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague : — 
Fetch me my rapier, boy : — What ! dares the slave 
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, 
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ? 
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, 
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 

1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore storm 
you so ? 

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe ; 
A villain, that is hither come in spite, 
To scorn at our solemnity this night. 

1 Cap. Young Romeo is't ? 

Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 

1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, 
He bears him like a portly gentleman ; 
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him, 
To be a virtuous and well govern'd youth: 
I would not for the wealth of all this town, 
Here in my house, do him disparagement : 
Therefore be patient, take no note of him, 
It is my will ; the which if thou respect, 
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns, 
An ill beseeming semblance for a feast. 

Tyb. It lils, when such a villain is a guest ; 
I'll not endure him. 

1 Cap. He shall be endur'd ; 

What, goodman boy ? — I say, he shall ; — Go to ; — 
Am I the master here, oryou ? go to. 
You'll not endure him ! — God shall mend my soul — 
You'll make a mutiny among my guests! 
You will set cock-a-hoop ! you'll be the man ! 

Tyb. Why, uncle, 'us a shame. 

1 Cap. Go to, go to. 

You are a saucy boy : — Is't so, indeed ? — 
This trick may chance to scalh 1 you ; — I know what. 
You must contrary me ! many, 'lis timt — 
Well said, my hearts : — You are a pnncox ; 2 eo : — 
Be quiet, or— More light, more light, for shame ! — 
I'll make you qniel ; What ! Cheerly, my hearts. 

Tyb. Patience perforce 3 with wilful choler meet- 
ing* 
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. 
I will withdraw : but this intrusion shall, 
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit. 

Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand 

[To Juliet. 

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this — 
Mv lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. 

Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too 
much, 

Which mannerly devotion shows in this ; 
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, 

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 

Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? 

Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. 

Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands 
do;* 

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 



1 i. e. iln you an injury. The word has still this mean- 
ing in Scotland. 

2 A pert forward youth. The word is apparently a 
Corruption of the Latin prepcox. 

3 There is an old adage — ' Patience perforce is a me- 
dicine for a mad dog.' To which this is an allusion. 

4 Juliet had said before, that 'palm to palm was holy 
palmer's kiss.' She afterwards says, that 'palmers have 
lips that they must use in prayer.' Romeo replies, That 
the prayer of his t>p$ icas, that they might do ichai 
hands do ; that is, that they might kiss. 

5 The poet here, without doubt, copied from the mode 
of his own time ; and kissing a lady in a public assem 
bly, we may conclude, was not then thought indecorous 
ft\' King Henry VIII. Lord Sands is represented as kiss 
log Anne Boleyn, next whom he sat at supper. 



Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' 
sake. 

Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect 
I take. 
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. 

[Kissing her.* 

Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. 

Rom. Sin from my lips ? O, trespass sweetly urg'd. 
Give me my sin again. 

Jul. You kiss by the book. 

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with 
you. 

Rom. What is her mother ? 

Nurse. Marry, bachelor ' 

Her mother is the lady of the house, 
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous : 
1 nurs'd iier daughter, that you talk'd withal: 
I tell you, — he, that can lay hold of her, 
Shall have the chinks. 

Rom. Is she a Capulet? 

O, dear account ! my life is my foe's debt. 

Ben. Away, begone ; the sport is at the best. 

Rom. Ay, so I fear ; the more is my unrest. 

1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone ; 
We have a trilling foolish banquet towards. 6 — 
Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all ; 
I thank von, honest gentlemen ;' good night :— 
More torches here ! — Come on, then let's to bed. 
Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late ; 
I'll to my rest. [Exeunt ail but Juliet and Nurse. 

JW,Come hither muse : What is yon gentleman ? 

Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. 

Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? 

Nurse. Marry, thai, I think, be young Petruchio. 

Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would 
not dance ? 

Nurse. I know not. 

Jul. Go ask his name : — if he he married, 
Mv crave is like to be my wedding bed. 

Ararat. His name is Romeo, and a Montague , 
The only son of your great enemy. 

Jul. My onK l"ve sprung from my only hate! 
Too early seen unknown, and known too late ! 
Prodigious birth of love it is to me, 
That I must love a loathed enemy. 

Nurse. What's this? what's this ? 

Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now 
Of one I dane'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet. 

Nurse. An. in, anon : — 

Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone. 

[Exeunt. 
Enter Chorus.* 
Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, 

And young affection gapes to be his heir ; 
That fair, 5 which love groan'dfor, and would die, 

With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair. 
Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves a°ain, 

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks ; 
But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, 

And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks ., 
Being held a foe, he may not have access 

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, 
And she as much in love, her means much less 

To meet her new-beloved anv where : 



6 Towards is riaihj, at hand. A li(ni'/urt, or rere 
supper, as it was sometimes called, was similar to ou. 
dessert. 

7 Here the quarto of lip" adds : — 

' I promise you, but for your company, 
I would have been in be'd an hour ago : 
Light to my chamber, ho !' 
9 ' This chorus is not in the first edition, rjinrto, 
1597. Its use is not easily discovered ; it conduces no 
thin? to the progress of the play ; but relates what 13 
already known, or what the next scene will show ; and 
relates' it without adding the improvement of any moral 
sentiment.' — Johnson. 

9 Fair, it has been already observed, was formerly 
used as a substantive, and was synonymous with beauty. 
The old copies read : — 

' That fair/or which love groan'd for,' &c 
This reading Malone defends. "Steevens treats it as a 
corruption, and says, that/u/r, in the present instance, 
is used as a dissyllable. 



SCIWE II. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



443 



But passion lends them power, time means to meet, 
Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. An open Place, adjoining Capulet's 
Garden. Enter Romeo. 

Rom. Can I 50 forward, when my heart is here ? 
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. 

[He climbs the IVall, and leaps down within it. 
Enter Benvolio, and Mercutio. 

Ben. Romeo ! my cousin Romeo ! 

Mer. He is wise ; 

And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. 

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard 1 
wall : 
Call, good Mercutio. 

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure, too. — 

Romeo ! humours ! madman ! passion ! lover ! 
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, 
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied ; 
Cry but — Ah me ! pronounce 2 but — love and dove ; 
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, 
One nickname for her purblind son and heir, 
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, 3 
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid. — 
He hearetn not, he stirreth not, be moveth not; 
The ape* is dead, and I must conjure him. — 
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, 
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, 
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, 
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, 
That in thy likeness thou appear to us. 

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. 

Mer. This cannot anger him : 'twould anger him 
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle 
Of some strange nature, letting it. there stand 
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down ; 
That were some spite : my invocation 
Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name, 
I conjure only but to raise up him. 

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, 
To be consorted with the humorous 5 night : 
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. 

Mer. If love, be blind, love cannot hit the mark. 
Now will he sit under a medlar tree, 
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, 
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. s — 
Romeo, good night ; — I'll to my truckle-bed ; 
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep : 
Come, shall we go ? 

Ben. Go, then ; for 'tis in vain 

To seek him here, that means not to be found. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter Romeo. 

Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. 
[Juliet appears above, at a Window. 
But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ! 
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! 



1 See note on Julius Caesar, vol. i. p. 3. 

2 This is the reading of the quarto of 1597. Those of 
1599 and 1609, and the folio, read provaunt, all evident 
corruption. The folio of 1632 has couply meaning couple, 
which has been the reading of many modern editions. 
Steevens endeavours to persuade himself and his rea- 
ders tha.lprovant may be right, and mean provide, fur- 
nisk. 

3 All the old copies read, Abraham Cupid. The 
alteration was proposed by Mr. Upton. It evidently 
alludes to the famous archer Adam Bell. So in Decker's 
Satiromastix : — ' He shoots his bolt but seldom ; but 
when Adam lets go, he hits.' 'He shoots at thee too, 
Jidam Bell ; and his arrows stick here.' The ballad 
alluded to is King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, or, 
as it is called in some copies, ' The Song of a Beggar 
and a King.' It may be seen in the first volume of 
Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry. The following 
stanza Shakspeare had particularly in view : — 

' The blinded boy that shoots so trim, 

From heaven down did hie ; 
He drew a dart and shot at him, 

In place where he did lie.' 



Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 

Who is already sick and pale with grief, 

That thou her maid art far more fair than she : 

Be not her maid,' since she is envious ; 

Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 

And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off.— 

It is my lady : O, it is my love : 

O, that she knew she were ! — 

She speaks, yet she says nothing ; What of that 7 

Her eye discourses, I will answer it. 

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks : 

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 

Having some business, do entreat her eyes 

To twinkle in their spheres til! they return. 

What if her eyes were there, they in her head? 

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars 

As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven 

Would through the airy region stream so bright, 

That, birds would sing, and think it were not nicrht 

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! 

O, that I were a glove upon that hand, 

That I might touch that cheek ! 

Jul. Ah me ! 

Romi She speaks :•- 

O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
As glorious to this sight," being o'er my head, 
As is a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes 
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
And sails upon the bosom of the air. 

Jul. O, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou 
Romeo ? 
Denv thy father, and refuse thy name : 
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
And I'll no longer be a Capulet. 

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? 

[Aside, 

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy ;— 
Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. 
What's Montague ! it is nor hand, nor foot, 
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name ! 
What's in a name ? that which we call a rose, 
By any other name would smell as sweet ; 
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd : 
Retain that dear perfection which he owes, 
Without that title : Romeo, doff" thy name ; 
And for that name, which is no part of thee, 
Take all myself. 

Rom. I take thee at thy word : 

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd ; 
Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in 
night, 
So stumblest on my counsel? 

Rom. By a name 

I know not how to tell thee who I am : 
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, 
Because it is an enemy to thee ; 
Had I it written, I would tear the word. 



4 This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an 
expression of tenderness like poor fool, &c. 

5 i. e. the humid, the moist dewy night. Chapman 
uses the word in this sense in his translation of Homer, 
b. ii. edit. 1598: 

' The other gods and knights at arms, slept all the 
humorous night.' 
And Drayton in the thirteenth Song of his Polyolbior. : — 

' which late the humorous night 

Bespangled had with pearl.' 
And in The Barons' Wars, canto i. : — 

' The humorous fogs deprive us of his light. 
Shakspeare uses the epithet, ' vaporous night,' in Mea- 
sure for Measure. 

6 After this line in the old copies are two lines of 
ribaldry, which have justly been degraded to the mar- 
gin : — 

' O Romeo, that she were, ah that she were 
An open et cetera, thou a poprin pear.' 

7 i. e. be not a votary to the moon, to Diana. 

8 The old copies read, 'to this night.' 1 Theobald 
made the emendation, which appears to be warranted 
by the context. 



414 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Act II. 



Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words 
Of that tongue's utterance, 1 yet I know the sound ; 
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? 

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. 2 

Jul. How cam'stthou hither, tell me ? and where- 
fore ? 
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb ; 
And the place death, considering who thou art, 
If any of my kinsmen find thee here. 

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch 
these walls ; 
For stony limits cannot hold love out : 
And what love can do, that dares love attempt, 
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let 3 to me. 

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. 

Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye, 
Than twenty of their swords ; 4 look thou but sweet, 
And I am proof against their enmity. 

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. 

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their 
sight; 
And, but 5 thou love me, let them find me here : 
My life were better ended by their hate, 
Than death prorogued 6 wanting of thy love. 

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this 
place 1 

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire : 
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far 
As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, 
I would adventure for such merchandise. 

Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my 
face ; 
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, 
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
What I have spoke ; But farewell compliment ! T 
Dost thou love me ? I know, thou wilt say — Ay ; 
And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, 
Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, 
They say, Jove laughs. 8 O, gentle Romeo, 
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : — 
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, 
So thou wilt woo : but, else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; 
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light : 
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 9 



1 We meet with almost the same words as those here 
attributed to Romeo in King Edward III. a tragedy, 
1596 :— 

' I misjht peTceive his eye in her eye lost, 

His ei/e"to drink her street tongue's utterance.'' 

2 i.e. if either thee displease. "This was the usual 
phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So it likes me well ; 
for it pleases me well. 

3 i. e. no slop, no hinderance. Thus the quarto of 
1597. The subsequent copies read, ' no slop to me.' 

4 Beaumont and Fletcher have copied this thought in 
The Maid in the Mill :— 

1 T s lady may command, sir; 

She bears an eye more 'dreadful than your weapon.' 

5 But is here again used in its exceptive sense, with- 
out or unless. 

6 i. e. postponed, delayed or deferred to a more distant 
period. So in Act iv. Sc. 1 : — 

'I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, 
On Thursday next be married to the county.' 
The whole passage above, according to my view of it, 
has the following construction : — ' I have night to screen 
me ; yet unless thou lnve me, let them find me here. It 
were better that they ended my life at once, than to 
have death delayed, and to want thy love.' 

7 \. e. farewell attention to forms. 

8 This Shakspeare found in Ovid's Art of Love per- 
haps in Marlowe's translation : — 

' For Jove himself sits in the azure skies, 
Jlnd laughs below at lovers' 1 perjuries.' 
With the following beautiful antithesis to the above 
lines (says Mr. Douce) every reader of taste will be 
gratified. It is given memoriter from some old play, 
the name of which is forgotten : — 

' When lovers swear true faith, the list'ning angels 
Stand on the golden battlements of heavevi, 
And waft their vows to the eternal throne.' 



I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware, 
My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ; 
And not impute this yielding to light love, 
Which the dark night hath so discovered. 

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, 
That tips with silver 10 all these fruit-tree tops, — 
Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant 
moon, 
That monthly changes in her circled orb, 
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 
Rom. What shall I swear by ? 
Jul. Do not swear at all ; 

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 
Which is the god of my idolatry, 
And I'll believe thee. 

Rom. If my heart's dear love 

Jul. Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee, 
I have no joy of this contract to-night : 
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden ; 
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, 
Ere one can say — It lightens. 11 Sweet, good night! 
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 
Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest 
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast! 
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? 
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow 

for mine. 
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it : 
And yet I would it were to give again. 
Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it ? for what pur- 
pose, love? 
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. 
And yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 
The more I have, for both are infinite. 

[Nurse calls within, 
I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu ! 
Anon, good nurse ! — Sweet Montague, be true. 
Stav, but a little, I will come again. [Exit, 

Rom. O, blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard, 
Being in night, all this is but a dream, 
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
Re-enter Juliet, above. 
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, 
indeed. 
If that thy bent of love be honourable, 12 
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 
By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 



9 To be distant, or shy. 
10 This image struck Pope : — 

'The moonbeam trembling falls, 
And tips with silver all the walls.' 
And in the celebrated simile at the end of the eight 
Iliad : — ' And tips with silver every mountain's head.' 
H So in The Miracles of Moses, by Drayton, 1604 : — 

« lightning ceaselessly to burn, 

Swifter than thought from place to place to pass, 
And being gone, doth suddenly return 
Ere you could say precisely what it was.' 
The same thought occurs in A Midsummer Night's 
Dream. 

All the intermediate lines from ' Street, good night /' 
to ' Stay but a little,' &c. were added after the first im- 
pression in 1597. 
12 In Brooke's Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, 
she uses nearly the same expressions : — 
' If your thought be chaste, and have on virtue ground, 
If wedlock be the end and mark, which your desire 

hath found, 
Obedience set aside, unto my parents due, 
The quarrel eke that long ago between our households 

crew, 
Both me andmine I will all ichole to you to take, 
And following you whereso you go, my father's houso 

forsake : 
But if by wanton love and by unlawful suit 
You think in ripest years to pluck my maidenhood's 

dainty fruit, 
You are beguil'd, and now your Juliet you besceks 
To cease your suit, and sutler her to live among hel 
likes.' 



Scene III. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite • 
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, 
And follow thee my lord throughout the world : 
Nurse. [Within.] Madam. 
Jul. I come anon:- -But if thou mean'st not well, 

1 Jo beseech thee, 

Nurse. [Within.] Madam. 
m Jul ' , . By and by, I come :— 

1 o cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: 
To-morrow will I send. 

T°' n \ , So thrive my soul, 

Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit. 

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy 

light.— ' 

Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their 

books ; 
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 
[Retiring slowly. 
Re-enter Juliet, above. 
Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!— O, for a falconer's 
voice, 
To lure this tassel-gentle 1 back again ! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
Else would I tear the cave 2 where echo lies, 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
With repetition of my Romeo's name ; 

Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name ; 
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
Like softest music to attending ears ! 
Jul. Romeo! 

Rom. My sweet ! 3 

„.*^"/v , At what o'clock to-morrow 

Shall I send to thee? 

Rom - At the hour of nine. 

Jul. I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then. 
I have forgot why I did call thee back. 

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. 

Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, 
Rememb'ring how I love thy company. 

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, 
Forgetting any other home but this. 

Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone ; 
And yet no further than a wanton's bird ; 
Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 
So loving-jealous of his liberty. 

Rom. I would, I were thy bird. 

^ u l- Sweet, so would I : 

\ et I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow, 
That I shall say— good night, till it be morrow. [Exit. 



1 The tassel, or tiercel, (for so it should be spelt,) is 
the male of the gosshawk, and is said to be so called 
because it is a tierce or third less than the female. This 
:s equally true of all birds of prey. This species of 
hawk had the epithet of gentle annexed to it, from the 
ease with which it was tamed, and its attachment to 
man. Tardif, in his book of Falconry, says that the 
tiercel has its name from being one of three birds usually 
found in the aerie of a falcon, two of which are females, 
and the third a male ; hence called tiercelet, or the third 
According to the old books of sport the falcon gentle and 
tiercel gentle are birds for a prince. 

2 This strong expression is more suitably employed 
by Milton :— ' A shout that lore hell's concave.' 

3 The quarto of 1597 puts the cold, distant, and 
formal appellation Madam, into the mouth of Romeo.— 
The two subsequent quartos and the folio have ' my 
niece,' which is a palpable corruption ; but it is difficult 
to say what word was intended. ' My sweet' is the 
reading of the second folio. 

4 In the folio and the three later quartos these four 
lines are printed twice over, and given- once to Romeo 
and once to the Friar. 

5 ' Fticked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or varie- 
gated. Lord Surrey uses the word in his translation of 
the fourth JEneid:— 

•' Her quivering cheekesJlecAed with deadly stain.' 
So in the old play of The Four Prentices :— 
' We'll fleck our white steeds in your Christian blood.' 

6 This is the reading of the second folio. The quarto 
of 1597 reads. : — 

' From forth day's path and Titan'sjfry wheels.' 
The quarto ot 1599 and the folio have ' burning wheels.' 



445 
Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy 

DftJcLSt .— — 

'Would, I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! 

Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ; 

His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit. 

SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. EnterFniAR 
Laurence, with a Basket. 

Fri. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the frownin" 

night,' 4 ° 

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ; 

And flecked 6 darkness like a drunkard reels 

From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's 

wheels : 6 
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, 
I must fill up this osier cage of ours, 
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers. 7 
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ;* 
What is her burying grave, that is her womb : 
And from her womb children of divers kind 
We sucking on her natural bosom find ; 
Many for many virtues excellent, 
None but for some, and yet all different. 
O, mickle is the powerful grace 9 that lies 
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities ; 
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live^ 
But to the earth some special good doth give • 
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use. 
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : 
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; 
And -vice sometime's by action dignified. 
Within the infant rind of this small flower 
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power: 
For this, being smelt, with that part 10 cheers each 

part; 
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
Two such opposed foes encamp them still" 
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will : 
And, where the worser is predominant, 
Full soon tbe canker death eats up that plant,' 

Enter Romeo. 

Rom. Good morrow, father ! 

Fri. Benedicite ! 

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ? — " 
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head, 
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed : 
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, 
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie • 



7 So Drayton, in the eighteenth Song of his Polyoi- 
bion, speaking of a hermit : — 

' His happy time he spends the works of God to see 
In those so sundry herbs which there in plenty grow 
Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know' 
And in a little maund, being made of oziers small 
Which serveth him to do full many a thing- withal' 
He very choicely sons his simples got abroad.' 
Shakspeare has very artificially prepared us for the 
part Friar Lawrence is afterwards to sustain. Havin" 
thus early discovered him to be a chemist, we are not 
surprised when we find him furnishing the draught 
which produces the catastrophe of the piece The 
passage was, however, suggested by Arthur Brooke's 
poem. 

8 ' Omniparens, eadem rerum commune sepulchrum.' 

Lucretius. 
Ine womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.' 
■■ Milton. 

Time's the king of men, 

For he's their parent, andlie is their grave.' 

„ „„ . . Pericles 

9 Efficacious virtue. 

10 i.e. with its odour. Not, asMalone says, 'with the 
olfactory nerves, the part that smells.' 

11 So in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint :— 

' terror and dear modesty 

Encamp' d in hearts, but flghtin? outwardly.' 

Our poet has more than once" alluded to these onnosed 
foes. So in Othello :— U 

■ Yea, curse his better angel from his side.' 
See also his forty-fourth Sonnet. He may have re- 
membered a passage in the old play of King Arthurj 

' Peace hath three foes encamped in ovr breaata 
Ambition, wrath, and envie ' 



44$ 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



Act II. 



But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain 
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth 

reign : 
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, 
Thou art uprous'd by some distemp'rature ; 
Or if not so, then here I hit it right — 
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. 

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was 
mine. 

Fri. God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosaline ? 

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? no ; 
1 have forgot that name, and that name's wo. 

Fri. That's my good son : But where hast thou 
been, then ? 

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. 
I have been feasting with mine enemy : 
Where on a sudden, one hath wounded me, 
That's by me wounded : both our remedies 
Within thy help and holy physic lies :' 
I bear no hatred, blessed man ; for, lo, 
My intercession likewise steads my foe. 

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift ; 
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. 

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love 
is set 
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet : 
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ; 
And all comhin'd, save what thou must combine 
By holy marriage : When, and where, and how, 
We met. we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, 
I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray, 
That thou consent to marry us this day. 

Fri. Holy Saint Francis! wliat a change ishere ! 
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, 
So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies 
Not truly in their hearts, but in their oyes. 
Jesu Marin ! what a deal of brine 
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! 
How much salt water thrown away in waste, 
To season love, that of it doth not taste ! 
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, 
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ; 
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit 
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet : 
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, 
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline ; 
And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this sentence 

then — 
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. 

Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. 

Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. 

Rom. And bad st me bury love. 

Fri. Not in a grave, 

To lay one in, another out to have. 

1 This apparent false concord occurs in many p'aces, 
not only of Shakspeare, but of all old English writers. 
hia sufficient tat in the Anglo-Saxon ami 
very old English the third person plural of tlie present 
tense ends in elh, and often familiarly in es, as might be 
exemplified from Chaucer and others. This idiom was 
not worn out in Shakspeare's time, who must not there- 
fore be tried by rules which were invented after his 
time. We have the same grammatical construction in 
Cyuibeline: — 

' His steeds to water at those springs 
On chalic'd flowers that lies.' 
And in Venus and Adonis : — 

' She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes 
Where lo .' two lamps burnt out in darkness lies.'' 
Again in a former'scene of this play : — 

And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 
Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.' 

2 ' It is incumbent upon me, or it is of importance to 
me to use extreme haste.' So in King Richard III. : — 

' it stands me mucn upon, 

To stop all hopes,' &c. 

3 The allusion is to archery. The clout, or white 
mark, at which the arrows were directed, was fastened 
by a black pin, placed in the centre of it. To hit this 
was the highest ambition of every marksman. So in 
No Wit like a Woman's, a comedy by Middleton, 1657 : 

' They have shot two arrows without heads, 
They cannot stick i' the but yet; hold out, knight, 
And V\l cleave the black /wni'the midst of the white.' 
So in Marlowe's Tamburlaine ; — 



Rom. I pray thee, chide not : she, whom I love 
now, 
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow ; 
The other did not so. 

Fri. O, she knew well, 

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. 
But come, young waverer, come, go with me, 
In one respect I'll' thy assistant be ; 
For this alliance may so happy prove, 
To turn your households' rancour to pure love. 

Rom. O, let us hence ; I stand on sudden haste.* 

FVi Wisely, and slow ; they stumble that run 
fast. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. A Street. Enter Benvolio and 
Mercutio. 

Mer. Where tho devil should this Romeo be ? — 
Came he not home to-night ? 

Ben. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man. 

Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, 
that Rosaline, 
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. 

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet. 
Hath sent a letter to his father's house. 

Mer. A challenge, on my life. 

Ben. Romeo will answer it. 

Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a 
letter. 

Ben. Nav, he will answer the letter's master, 
how he dares, being dared. 

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead ! 
stabbed with a white wench's black eye ; shot 
thorough the car with a love-song ; the very pin of 
Ins heart cleft with tho blind bow-hoy's butt-shaft : 3 
And is he a man to encounter Tvbalt? 

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ? 

Mer. More than prince of cats, 4 I can tell you. 
O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. 
He fights as you sing prick-soni;, keeps time, dis- 
tance, and proportion ; rests me his minim rest, 
one, two, and the third in your bosom : the very 
butcher of a silk button, i a duellist, a duellist ; a 
gentleman of the very first house, — of the first and 
second cause : e Ah, the immortal passado ! the 
punto reverso ! the hay !' 

Ben. The what ? 

V . The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting 
fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accents ! — By 
Jtsu, a very good blade ! — a very tall man — « very 
good whore ! — Whv, is not this a lamentable thing, 
grandsire, 6 that we should be thus afflicted with 
these strange flies, these fashion- mongers, these par- 
donnez-moys, who stand so much on the new form, 
that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? 9 0, 
their bons, their bons ! 

' For kings are clouts that every man shoi 

Our crown the p<7] that thousands seek to rl/ave.' 

4 Tybert, the name given to a cat in the old story- 
book of Reynard the Fox. So mi Decker's Saiiromastix. 

' Tho' you were Tybert, prince of long-tailed cats.' 

Again, in Have With You to Saffron Walden, by Nash : 

' Not Tibalt prince of cats.' 

5 So in the Return from Parnassus: — 

' Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth.' 
The phrase also occurs in the Fantaisies de Bruscam- 
bile, 161-2, p. 191 :— ' Un coup de mousquet sans four- 
chette dans le sixieme bonton.' 

6 i. e. a gentleman of the first rank, or highest emi- 
nence, among these duellists ; and one who understands 
the whole science of quarrelling, and will tell you of the 

first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to 
fight. The Clown, in As You Like It, ta!ks of the se- 
venth cause In the same sense. 

7 All the terms of the fencing school were originally 
Italian : the rapier, or small thrusting sword, being first 
used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you have it, 
used when a thrust reaches the antagonist. Our fencers 
on the same occasion cry out ha .' 

8 Humorously apostrophising his ancestors, whose 
sober times were unacquainted with the fopperies here 
complained of. 

9 During the ridiculous fashion which prevailed of 
great ' boulstered breeches,' (See Strutt's Manners and 
Customs, vol. iii. p. 86; Strypc's Annals, vol. i. p. 78, 
Appendix; vol. ii. Appendix, note 17,) it is said that it 
was necesssary to cut away hollow places in the benches 



Scene IV. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



447 



Enter Romeo. 

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. 

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring : — O, 
flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified ! — Now is he for 
the numbers that Petrarch flowed in ; Laura, to his 
lady, was but a kitchen wench ; — marry, she had a 
better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy : Cleo- 
patra, a gipsy ; Helen and Hero, hildings and har- 
lots ; Thisbe, a gray eye or so, 1 but not to the pur- 
pose. — Signior Romeo, bon jour ! there's a French 
salutation to your French slop. 2 You gave us the 
counterfeit fairly last night. 

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What coun- 
terfeit did I give you ? 

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ; Can you not con- 
ceive ? 

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was 
great : and, in such a case as mine, a man may 
strain courtesy. 

Mer. That's as much as to say — such a case as 
yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. 

Rom. Meaning — to court'sy. 

Mer. Thou has most kindly hit it. 

Rom. A most courteous exposition. 

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. 

Rom. Pink for flower. 

Mer. Riaht. 

Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. 8 

Mer. Well said : Follow me this jest now, till 
thou hast worn out thy pump ; that, when the single 
sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the 
wearing, solely singular. 

Rom. O, single-soled 4 jest, solely singular for the 
singleness. 

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio ; my 
wits fail. 

Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; or I'll 
cry a match. 

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, 5 1 
have done ; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in 
one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole 
five : Was I with you there for the goose ? 

Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, 
when thou wast not there for the goose. 

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. 

Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. 

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ; 6 it is a 
most sharp sauce. 

Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet 
goose ? 

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, 7 that stretches 
from an inch narrow to an ell broad ! 

Rom. I stretch it out for that word — broad : 
which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide 
a broad goose. 

Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning 



of the House of Commons, to make room for those mon- 
strous protuberances, without which those who stood on 
Vie new form could not sit at ease on the old bench. 

1 A gray eye appears to have meant what we now 
call a blue eye. He means to admit that Thisbe had a 
tolerable fine eye. 

2 The slop was a kind of wide-kneed breeches, or 
rather trowsers. 

3 Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The 
fundamental idea is, that Romeo wore pinked pumps, 
that is, punched with holes in figures. It was the cus- 
tom to wear ribands in the shoes formed in the shape of 
roses or other flowers. Thus in The Masque of Gray's 
Inn, 1614: — 'Every masker's pump was fastened with 
a. flower suitable to his cap.' 

4 Malone and Steevens have made strange work 
with their conjectures of the meaning of single-soled. I 
have shown, (in a former note,) that single meant 
simple, silly. Single-soled had also the same mean- 
ing : — ' He is a good sengyll soule, and can do no harm ; 
est doli nescius non simplex.' — Herman's Vulgaria. 

5 One kind of horserace, which resembled the flight 
of wild geese, was formerly known by this name. — 
Two horses were started together, and which ever rider 
could get the lead, the other rider was obliged to fol- 
low him wherever he chose to go. This explains 
the pleasantry kept, up here. 'My wit fails,' says 
Mercutio. Romeo exclaims briskly, ' Switch and 
spurs, switch and spurs.' To which Mercutio rejoins, 



for love ? now art tnou sociable, now art thou Ro- 
meo ; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as 
by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great 
natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his 
bauble in a hole. 

Ben. Stop there, stop there. 

Mer. Thou desirest me stop in my tale against 
the hair. 8 

Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large. 

Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd, I would have made 
it short : for I was come to the whole depth of my 
tale : and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument 
no longer. 

Rom. Here's goodly geer ! 

Enter Nurse and Peter. 

Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail ! 

Ben. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock. 

JVurse. Peter ! 

Peter. Anon ! 

Nurse. My fan, Peter. 9 

Mer. 'Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her lace ; 
for her fan's the fairer of the two. 

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. 

Mer. God ye good den, 10 fair gentlewoman. 

JVurse. Is it good den ? 

Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy 1 
of the dial is now upon the prick" of noon. 

JVurse. Out upon you ! what a man are you ? 

Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath madi 
himself to mar. 

JVurse. By my troth, it is well said ; — For him- 
self to mar, quoth 'a ? — Gentlemen, can any of you 
tell me where I may find the young Romeo? 

Rom. I can tell you ; but young Romeo will be 
older when you have found him, than he was when 
you sought him : I am the youngest of that name, 
for 'fault of a worse. 

JVurse. You say well. 

Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very wV ?l v '.ok, i' 
faith ; wisely, wisely. 

JVurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confi- 
dence with you. 

Ben. She will indite him to some supper. 

Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho ! 

Rom. What hast thou found ? 

Mer. No hare, sir ; unless a hare, sir, in a len- 
ten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be 
spent. 

An old hare hoar, ! 2 
And an old hare hoar, 
Is very good meat in lent ; 
But a hare that is hoar, 
Is too much for a score, 
When it hoars ere it be spent. — 



' Nay, if thy wits run the wild goose chase,' &c. Burton 
mentions this sport, Anat. of Melau. p. 266, edit. 1632. — 
See also the article Chase in Chambers's Dictionary. 

6 The allusion is to an apple of that name. 

7 Soft stretching leather, kid leather. 

8 This phrase, which is of French extraction, acontre 
poil, occurs again in Troilus and Cressida : — ' Merry 
against the hair.'' 

9 The business of Peter carrying the Nurse's fan, 
seems ridiculous to modern manners, but it was former- 
ly the practice. In The Serving Man's Comfort, 1598, 
we are informed, ' The mistresse, must have one to 
carry hercloake and hood, another her fanne.' So in 
Love's Labour's Lost : — ' To see him walk before a lady, 
and to bear her fan.' 

10 i. e. ' God give you a good even.' The first of these 
contractions is common in our old dramas. So in 
Brome's Northern Lass : — ' God you good even, sir.' 

11 So in King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 4 :— 

' And made an evening at the noontide prick.'' 
i. e. the point of noon. A prick is a point, a note of 
distinction in writing, a stop. So in Brighfs Charac- 
tery, or Arte of Short Writing, 1588 :— 'If the worde 
end in ed, a.s I loved, then make zpricke in the charac- 
ter of the word on the left side.' 

12 Hoar, or hoary is often used for mould//, as things 
grow white from moulding. These lines seem to have 
been part of an rid song. Jta the quarto, 1597, we have 
this stage direction : ' He icalks by them [i.e. the Nursa 
and Peter] and sings.' 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



418 

Romeo, will you come, to your father's ? we'll to 
dinner thhher. 

Rom. I will follow you. . 

ilfer. Farewell, ancient lady ; farewell, lady, lady, 

[Exeunt Mercutiq and Benvolio. 
Nurse. Marrv, farewell!— I pray you, sir, what 
saucy merchant was this, that was so full ot his 
ropery ? 2 , 

Bom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear 
himself talk ; and will speak more in a minute, 
than he will stand to in a month. 

Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, 1 11 

take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and 

twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those 

" Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt- 

' -^ains-mates: 3 — And thou 

Her every knave to use 



Act II ! 



,ou at his pleasure ; if 

..id quickly have been out, 

*re draw as soon as another 

^sion in a good quarrel, and the 

T3 f 

J5 .., afore God, I am so vexed, that 
rttft about me quivers. Scurvy knave!— 
. ou, sir, a word : and, as I told you, my young 
Dade me inquire vou out; what she bade me 
'l will keep to mvself: but first let me tell ye, 
ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they 
say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they 
sav : for the gentlewoman is young ; and, there- 
fore if you should deal double with her, truly, it 
were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, 
and very weak dealing. . 

Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mis- 
tress. I protest unto thee,—— ... . „ , 

Wurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her 
a - „„ : Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman. 
Horn. vVhat wilt thou tell her, nurse ? thou dost 

not mark me. 

Nurse I will tell her, sir,— that you do protest ; 
which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. 

Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift 

This afternoon ; 

And there she shall at Friar Laurence cell 

Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains. 
Nurse. No, truly, sir ; not a penny. 
Rom. Go to ; I sav, you shall. 
Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be 

th Ro'm, And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey- 
wall : . , , 
Within this hour my man shall be with thee ; 
And brin« thee cords made like a tackled stair,* 
Which to'-the high top-gallant of my joy 
Must be my convoy m the secret night. 
Farewell !— Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. 
Farewell !— Commend me to thy mistress. 

Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee .—Hark 
you, sir. 

Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse .' 



Nurse. Is your man secret ? D.d you ne'er hear 
say — 
Two may keep counsel, putting one away ? 

Rom. I warrant thee ; my man's as true as 
steel. 

Nurse. Well, sir ; my mistress is the sweetest 
lady,— lord, lord ! — when 'twas a little prating 
thing, 5 — O, — there's a nobleman in town, one Pa- 
ris, "that would fain lay knife aboard : but she, 
good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as 
see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that 
Paris is the properer man : but, I'll warrant you, 
when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the 
varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo be- 
gin both with a letter ? 6 

jRom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R. 

Nurse. Ah, mocker ! that's the dog's name. R 
is for the dog. No ; I know it begins with some 
other letter : and she hath the prettiest sententious 
of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you 
good to hear it. . 

Bom. Commend me to thy lady. [Exit. 

Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. — Peter ! 

Pet. Anon ! 

Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before. 

[Exeunt 

SCENE V. Capulet's Garden. Enter Juliet. 
Jul.. The clock struck nine, when I did send the 
nurse ; 
In half an hour she promis'd to return. 
Perchance, she cannot meet him : that's not so.- 
O, she is lame ! love's heralds should be thoughts, 
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, 
Driving back shadows over louring hills : 
Therefore donimble-pinion'd doves draw love, 
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill 
Of this day's journey ; and from nine till twelve 
Is three long hours, — yet she is not come. 
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood, 
She'd be as swift in motion as a ball ; 
My words would bandy her to my sweet love, 
And his to me : 

But old folks, many feign as they were dead ; 
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. 

Enter Nurse and Peter. 
O, God, she comes !— O, honey nurse, what news? 
Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away. 

Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter. 

Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,— O, Lord! why 
look'st thou sad ? 
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; 
If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news 
Bv playing it to me with so sour a face. 

'Nurse. I am weary, give me leave awhile ;- 
Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had ! 

Jul. I would, thou had'st my bones, and I thy 
news : 
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ;— good, good nurse, 
speak. 



1 The burthen of an old song. See Twelfth Night, 

aBooerv'waa ancientlv used In the same sense as' 
roguery is now. So in The Three Ladies of London, 

° « Thou art very pleasant, and full of thy ropenjeS 

3 Bv sl.ains-mahs the old lady probably means 
vwarrerinv companions. A skain, or skein, was an 
Irishlnife or dagger, a weapon suitable to the purpose 
ofruffling fellows. Green, in his Quip for an Upstart 
Courtier, describes ' an ill-favoured knave, who wore 
bv his side a skeine, like a brewer's bung knife.^ 

4 i e like stairs of rope in the tackle of a ship. A 
stair' for a flight of stairs, is still the language ot Scot- 
land and was once common to both kingdoms. 

5 So in Arthur Brooke's poem :— _ 

« A orettv babe, quoth she, it was, when it was young, 
Lord, how it could full prettily have prated with its 
tongue.' . 

6 The Nurse is represented as a prating, silly crea- 
ture; she says that she will tell Romeo a good joke 
about his mistress, and asks him whether rosemary and 
Borneo do not both begin with a letter : he says, yes, an 



E She, whom we must suppose could not read, 
thought he mocked her, and says, No, sine I know 
better, R is the dog's name, your's begins with some 
other letter. This is natural enough, and in character. 
R put her in mind of that sound which dogs make when 
they snarl. Ben Jonson, in his EngMsfi Grammar 
savs ' R is the dog's teller, and hirrelh in the sound.' 
'Irritata canis quod R. R. quam plurima dicaU 

7 The speech is thus continued in the quarto, 1597 » - 

< should be thoughts, 

And run more swift than hasty powder fir'cl 
Doth hurry from the fearful cannon's mouth 
Oh, now she comes ! Tell me, gentle nurse, 
What says my love ?' ,.. ■ 

The "i-eate< part of this scene is likewise added since 
that Idition. Shakspeare, however, seems to have 
thought one of the ideas comprised in the mregomo 
quotation from the earliest quarto too valuable i to . oe 
lost. Ha has, therefore, inserted it in Romeo's first 
speech to the Apothecary, in Act v. :— 
' As violently as hasty powder fir'd 
Doth hurrv from the fatal cannon's womb . 



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